


Frozen Flame

by SilverWield



Series: Frozen [2]
Category: Illthdar
Genre: Action, Adventure, Aetumuh, Animal Empathy, Assassins, Assault, Attempted Rape, Awful People, BFFs, Battle Couple, Couple Issues, Dwarves, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fantasy Creatures, Fire Magic, Flirting, Fluff, Goddesses, Gods, Ice Elemental, Ice Magic, Illthdar - Freeform, Kitsune, LGBT characters, Long Distance Relationships, Lots of Touching, M/M, Magic, Magic weapons, Magical barriers, Major character death - Freeform, Murder, Mysteries, Ninja, Non-consent, Nymphs - Freeform, Oral, Original Mythology, Ozma - Freeform, Pining, Plant Magic, Pretty Dresses, Protective Boyfriend, Protective Girlfriend, Rape, Relationship Issues, Romance, Secrets, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Frustration, Slavery, Slow Burn, Smut, TRUST NO ONE, Tengu, Undressing With Eyes, Unseelie, Warging, Women Being Awesome, Yearning, alien/human, all the character development, all the faerie tales, boys with attitude, couple support, derpy relationships, everyone has their own plots, except your friends, fancy parties, fantasy lands, female support, killing the rapist, lemony-lime, murder plots, otp, petting, slippery two faced characters, slow looks, steamy relationship, storm magic, team work, unhealthy to healthy relationships, vicious characters, wet dreams, working through issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWield/pseuds/SilverWield
Summary: Two years after arriving in Illthdar, Aetumuh of ice, Nyima uv dra C'Deney, gets a message from the person who called her there. Her Cissuhan. They're on the isle of Ozma and need help fighting off a bunch of fire-wielding invaders who want to rape and pillage the city. Her friends and lover want to go with her, but she sneaks away in the night. Six months later they arrive on Ozma to find a different Nyima to the one they knew. What happened and how can they help?





	1. Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger: sex scene

“ _Second star to the right and straight on till morning.”_

“ _Somewhere over the rainbow.”_

“ _Down the rabbit hole.”_

 

Vague directions which led to fantastical locations. Nyima didn’t have that much. “Head north,” was all she knew. There were no markers, no road map. No roads for that matter. Lost to time and endless snowfall. She did have a suukma. A cross between a bear and a bat, it could find anything. With its help, she found what she was looking for. And more.

An undetermined amount of time later she ended up on Illthdar. On the island of the same name. One of twelve great nations: Bien, Don, Illthdar, Midraert, Mith, Mu, Nebrelan, Ozma, Rhogmar, Serenite, Shinar and the Yjada Isles.

Without a cissuhan to command her she was lost. Without other options she joined the Order of Mana, became a protector of the crystal of Vvekw. Assigned teammates, at first she kept her distance, but her defences always were weak against warmth.   
Abaddon was a 5’0 demi-demon. Their gender in flux, they preferred gender neutral pronouns. They had a set of curving horns poking through their short, pink hair. Their milk-white eyes lacked sight. Injured in a training accident they developed a type of sonar to get around. They were innocent and sweet, unless their temper spiked. They dressed in neutral shades and styles, neither fully one nor the other gender.  
Scyanatha was an ancient faerie, a Princess of the Unseelie, with an affinity to manipulating air and stone. With lily-white skin, blood red hair and eyes, she was the tallest of their team at 6’0. She could cut someone down with her wit or swords. She wore old-style corsets with modern leather trousers and jackets.  
Vyxen was the second youngest; a hunter hailing from Alaska. 5’2 and 20 years old she embodied the best parts of childhood: glitter, fun, bouncing, dreams and starlight. She was an animal empath. Able to control companions and tap into their emotions. She had moonlight touched hair and silver eyes. Freckles dusted her pale nose and cheeks. She took after the Scottish side of the family compared to her Native-American family. A fan of all things faerie, she dressed how she thought they did in pixie skirts, leg warmers and cute tops.  
At 18, Zercey was the baby. Meant to travel from her home in Italy to attend university, she’d begun her time in Illthdar with mousy hair and pansy coloured eyes. On meeting Lerki of Goldbirch, they turned amethyst. Her hair went green, resonating with his. She studied botany and had a scientific mind, always wanting things to make sense. In Illthdar nothing did, except the stock explanation of, “Magic”. A sensible girl, she dressed the same, donning leather bracers over her tunics and leggings. Whimsy lay in her pretty hair accessories and fancy gowns for Order events.  
Then there was Nyima. 5’8, a force of nature wrapped in a tempting package. Her blue skin changed shade with temperature. Looked glacial in summer and cobalt in winter. She had braided, midnight blue hair, adorned with beads and cuffs. Her mono-lidded eyes were palest blue. An ice elemental from planet Vaoslynr, she came to Illthdar to serve. In the interests of keeping her body temperature low as possible, she wore filmy tops and ribbon skirts with bare feet.

At the Battle of the Hoard, they met another team. Then continued running into them until High Elder Chiyoko revealed they’d be one large unit. Composed of the celestial, Inari, with asymmetric white hair, colour changing eyes and aesthetic wardrobe; tengu, Date, with black hair-feathers and wings that melted into his back; venin, Lerki, tall and slender, with an affinity for plants and poisons; half-blood, Seth, a black Egyptian with orange hair and eyes who could summon any storm, and ninja, Tundra, 5’9 and strong with a draping of frost covering his arms.

They fought together at the Fissure, but in the process lost friends.

Nyima and new teammate, Imogen, supported Vyxen the entire way back to Las. The turn of events broke the tiny, silver-haired half-blood, her body heaving as she cried a river of tears. Nyima pushed open the door to Seth‘s cottage in the Sanctuary, spying Date’s mother, Ona, waiting with an anxious frown.

“What happened?” Her blue eyes were wide and frightened. She darted a look around the women, searching for her sons. “Are Kinsaburo and Toshiiro all right?”  
“Yes,” Nyima answered in a monotone. She looked at Imogen over Vyxen’s head. “I think she’s being needing rest.”  
“I’ll sit with her,” Imogen offered, green eyes full of shock. She took the sobbing Vyxen into a small bedroom, leaving Nyima alone with Ona.  
“Where is Abaddon and Lerki?” When she’d left to join the others on their ill-fated mission, she forced them to stay behind. Both had injuries and were liabilities.  
“They went to join you,” Ona replied in a soft voice. “Please, tell me what happened.” She gestured for Nyima to sit and set about making tea.  
“Thanking you,” Nyima said, though she didn’t have the heart to tell Ona she didn’t drink tea. Her blue eyes stared into the murky depths of the cup, as she recounted what she knew of the mission. She had to choke out the words when she got to the part where Scyanatha and Zercey leapt into the Fissure after Inari.  
“My goodness,” Ona breathed, tearing up.   
Nyima nodded and shrugged. She massaged her right shoulder, having strained a current injury further by joining them, despite being told to stay behind. “They‘re gone. Inari, Scyanatha and Zercey.” Her lips trembled with suppressed emotion. “Kinsa has breaking his leg and is being going to the infirmary. Seth hurt his head. We’re being quite lucky,” she finished in a distant tone.  
“This is fortunate?” Ona whispered, horrified. “What will you do now?”  
“Nothing,” she replied with a helpless shrug, wincing. “Do you being knowing where mine sling is?”  
“Yes.” Ona fetched the piece of cloth and helped strap it about her arm.  
“Thanking you.” Nyima sighed, at a complete loss for anything further. She didn’t express grief well; her nomadic people didn’t have time, nor luxury for wallowing. They entombed their dead and moved on; the frozen wasteland of her home-world had no place for softness.  

~*~*~

Date Toshiiro and Tundra’s arrival was welcome respite to the heavy silence. Ona rushed forward and embraced her youngest son without thought.  
His dark eyes widened in surprise. She’d never done anything like this. Her trauma at the hands of his father he’d thought all encompassing. “I am well, mother,” he reassured when she tried to check him for wounds, running her hands over the black feathers crowning his head. “I wasn’t in the center of events.”  
“Nyima said Kinsa has a broken leg, and I thought—” Ona stilled as she took in the new addition, having overlooked the dark-haired, blue-eyed man.  
“This is Tundra,” Date supplied. “He used to be better looking, but decided getting shot in the face sounded appealing.” He referred to the polycarbide plate covering Tundra’s left eye and skimming up past his ear. Inside the socket an orange light glowed.  
“Fu—” Tundra bit off the retort for the sake of not swearing in front of Date’s mother. His remaining eye slid over to Nyima. “You okay?”  
At her mute staring, Date looked from one to the other. Tundra’s God snatched up her lover, leaving her, Zercey and Lerki in a perilous situation that resulted in the injuries she now had: a torn rotator cuff and large scars curving from her spine to her right hip and down her right thigh. She’d stopped anyone mentioning his name. Pain twisting her features every time. It caused Date grief to see, but the thought of Tundra knowing such love made it easier to bear his absence. A frigid aura came off Nyima in waves. _It seemed I was over confident._ Tundra’s brand of appeal wasn’t doing the job, either. His dopey smile couldn’t crack her countenance.  
“Fine,” she said, looking away.  
Tundra’s remaining eyebrow rose, but didn’t comment.  
A change of subject felt best. “Kinsa didn’t listen, flew in to help and got injured as a result,” Date said to Ona, drawing her back to the subject of his older brother. “We closed the Fissure, so the mission is a success.” His words sounded hollow to everyone’s ears. “Where is Vyxen?” He looked, but apart from his mother and Nyima the room was empty.  
“Imogen putting her to bed and is being staying with her,” Nyima answered. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. “Why would she being doing that? Zercey?”  
Zercey wasn’t foolish. Logical and pessimistic concerning Illthdar, taking a leap of faith into a hole spewing demons didn’t sound like her at all.  
“Seth said she ran towards it,” Tundra supplied. He’d arrived to find his friends pinned down and losing hope. His timing was perfect in that respect; he’d saved them, but terrible in that he’d arrived too late to prevent Zercey’s reckless actions.  
“How is he?” Nyima looked at Date for an answer.  
“Concussed,” he replied, eyes sliding left to take in Tundra’s neutral expression. He sighed in frustration. The pair acted like a divorced couple who’d stumbled upon each other at a mutual venue. “Lerki is in the infirmary, also,” he added, brows raising at Nyima’s surprised expression.  
“Ona, you was being saying he is with Abaddon.” It seemed the melee tossed everyone about. He hoped things would settle and they could take a well-earned breath.  
“They’re there, too,” Tundra answered, trying to draw Nyima’s attention. “They already know what happened.”  
“Thanking to Lerki’s element Gods,” Nyima muttered, staring down into her cold cup of tea. She got up, sighing. “I thinking I shall being returning to the barracks and rest.”  
“I’ll walk you back,” Tundra offered and got ignored again.

 ~*~*~

 Single, sky-blue eye glued to her slender curves until she was out of sight, Tundra shook his head and turned to find Date watching him. “What?”  
“It’s good to see you haven’t changed,” he replied, grim smile twitching his lips. The ladies' man among their group, though the truth was Tundra didn’t turn women down. Nyima was the first he’d had to chase, and the tactic worked until Leigong stole him. Now, Nyima was living up to her reputation as being a complete Ice Queen.  
“It was only a year,” he replied, shrugging.  
Date gaped at him. “You’ve been missing two moons.”  
It was his turn to do a fish impression. He guessed time didn’t pass the same way as on Oto, but he was sure he’d spent a year slogging his guts out trekking through jungles and fighting the good fight, all in the name of getting justice for the person who murdered his brother. He’d lost an eye and a good portion of his soul along the way, but it was worth it when he got to return home to Illthdar. Whenever he got time his friends and girlfriend were at the forefront of his mind. He missed them. He looked through the open front door and scowled. “Why she bent out of shape, then?” He’d been missing her, dreaming about her, having imaginary conversations with her at one point, and all he was getting in return was the cold shoulder.  
“You’d have to ask her,” Date replied, closing the door.  
“I-I’ll go check on Vyxen,” Ona suggested, not comfortable being alone with men after her ordeal at the hands of Date’s father. Kimono fluttering, she shuffled across the room and went into the bedroom.  
“I didn’t even know you had a mom,” Tundra commented in the silence.  
“And you‘re missing a brain,” Date replied, rolling his eyes. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, pinky finger conspicuous for its absence. His other hand was identical, both taken as a punishment meted out by his father. “Fucking Inari,” he said, deciding to blame the fiasco on the celestial. “They should have told us what they were planning. Because of them we lost people we didn’t have to.”  
“We lost Inari, too,” Tundra pointed out in an amused voice. He went to the stove and ladled two bowls of stew Ona prepared. “Eat something. You’ll feel better.”

 

They sat and ate in silence, only picking up the conversation once their bowls were empty.  
“They must have a plan,” Tundra said, meaning Inari.  
“Bullshit.” Date shook his head, collar-length, black hair-feathers ruffling. “Inari did what Inari always does. They didn’t trust us with the plan because they didn’t think they _could_ trust us with the plan.”  
Tundra didn’t argue. Whether time dulled his memory or the multiple concussions, his memory wasn‘t the best. He relied on others to recall boring details. He kept hold of the good stuff. Unable to harness their Godly power in full, the gender-fluid, Inari, was best suited to directing others. A new member their dynamic was yet to adjust. Nyima’s team went through training together and were close. “Think the others will be okay?”  
“No,” Date replied, shaking his head once more. “Vyxen’s devastated, Abaddon was in the foetal position and Nyima...” He trailed off and shrugged. “You saw her.”  
“Pretending everything’s fine,” Tundra said. “Like someone thrown into a leadership role would.” He wanted to comfort his girlfriend, but she pushed him away. It hurt more than he expected.  
“That would be because without Scyanatha around Nyima _is_ their leader.” The same way he was for their team, now Inari was missing. “We’re hardly teams,” he added, scratching his hooked nose with irritation. “Lerki will be in the infirmary for some time to come, Seth has concussion and Inari is gone. It’s just you and me, and we both know Chiyoko disagrees with ‘teams of two’.”  
Tundra shrugged. He didn’t see a problem. “So, she’ll stick us with the girls, if she knows what’s good for her.”  
“Women,” Date corrected, rolling his eyes and snorting when Tundra grinned.  
“She’ll stick us with them. Unless she wants to see what Nyima looks like pissed off.” He’d seen it and made it work. She had untamed sexual energy. He fed off it, fed into it. Nyima wasn‘t experienced, but she had good instincts. Teasing and redirecting her temper gave their playtime a wicked edge. He doubted the same would work for the kitsune High Elder.  
“Agreed.”  
Date dragged Tundra away from an interesting training memory rolling in the dirt. He tried not to chuckle picturing the look on Nyima’s face. He liked being clean as much as she did, but they got good and dirty that day. “Yeah,” he said, not having a clue what they were talking about.  
“With how unpredictable Vyxen‘s abilities are at the moment, Chiyoko would be wise not to upset any of them.”  
_Ah. That. Chiyoko. Right. Wait._ “Vyxen? Abilities?” Tundra’s brows came together, then rose as Date informed him she could empathise and warg with companion animals.  
“Did you not notice all the wailing outside?” Date waved a hand at the window. A cacophony of animal cries split the night. “It’s because she’s sad.”  
He’d assumed it was part of his tinnitus. “Holy shit. What’s she going to do about it?”  
“Training, I suppose. It’s dangerous for her to ignore.” Which was Vyxen’s go-to answer for anything difficult, including her complicated relationship with him. He’d told her how he felt and she’d brushed him off, or tried to fix him up with someone else. It wasn’t because she didn’t feel the same way, but because she didn’t want to hurt him.  
Tundra sighed and stretched. “Guess we should get some sleep.” He’d been at it non-stop since he left. He’d had a stupid idea that once he returned he could chill. _Stupid idea,_ he chided, as he and Date cleared away their bowls and headed to a bedroom on the opposite side of the cottage to the one where Vyxen and Imogen were.

~*~*~

 

 _Vyxen stood before the Fissure. The opening spewed demons and monsters high into the sky, but also beckoned her._ “ _It’s a portal, of sorts. Maybe it’ll take me home.”_  
_As she was about to jump, Zercey ran by. Green ponytail bobbing with her strides. Her dark cloaked flared, and the look on her heart-shaped face was one of complete confidence. Her lilac coloured eyes locked with Vyxen’s silver and she smiled. Then she was gone._  
_Vyxen sucked in a breath. “No!” Her short, white tresses flicked about her face in the breeze. “Zercey, no!” She dropped to her knees.  
__A second figure leapt after the first: Scyanatha! The red-haired, red eyed, leggy and lily-white figure dressed all in black looked like a heroine from an action movie. Before Vyxen could open her mouth to scream, Scy winked, then darkness swallowed her._

“Scy! Zercey!” Vyxen bolted upright, thrashing. She tried to grab, screaming, “Don’t go!”  
“Shhh, Vyxen. It’s okay.” Imogen’s familiar voice sounded in the darkness.  
Long arms went around her as Vyxen sobbed into Imogen’s shoulder. “They’re dead, Imo,” she choked out. “They’re never coming back!” She felt a hand stroking her head and something furry flopped into her lap. It was Date’s companion, Inoshi. The breed of jackalope called a sasah squeaked and nudged her, encouraging affection. “What are we gonna do?” she whispered.  
“We’ll figure something out,” Imogen replied. “We’re still safer here than out in the woods,” she added, knowing Vyxen’s next suggestion would be to leave. “The Order sent us to the Fissure, but they jumped in.”  
“Yeah,” came the defeated reply. “I still wanna leave.”  
“You are safer here,” Ona spoke up, the pair having woken her. “The Acolytes can protect you while you search for a way home. Please, Vyxen, don’t do anything impulsive.”  
The pleading tone and heartfelt desire to keep her safe swayed Vyxen for now. “Okay.” She laid down and tried to go back to sleep, but every time she shut her eyes she kept picturing Zercey smiling as she leapt into the Fissure. What made it more terrifying was she was sure it was a memory and not the lingering embers of her nightmare.

 ~*~*~

 

On her way back to the barracks a messenger stopped Nyima and redirected her to the Room of Worship. She entered to see High Elder Chiyoko waiting on the wooden platform that protected the dirt floor around the crystal of Vvekw. The giant formation of yellow crystals had vines and flowers binding it. Nyima gave it a cursory glance.

Chiyoko tapped her staff against the floor, making the flame inside the chalice on top dance. Her yellow robes shifted as she swished her tails. “Report.”  
Nyima did. Though, she wondered why Chiyoko chose her when her language skills needed work. Compared to ym prei, Illthdarian had many tenses and left her confused when people wanted quick explanations.  
“That’s unfortunate,” Chiyoko commented once Nyima came to a halting finish. “Inari isn’t worth much in a fight, besides their tactical skill—even if they _are_ a God—but Scyanatha’s loss will anger the Unseelie Court.”  
Nyima’s hand fisted at her side. “Do not forgetting Zercey.”  
“They won’t care for a half-blood.” Her brown eyes rolled, dismissing the girl as cannon fodder.   
“We do.” The air temperature around Nyima dropped several degrees, as she fought controlling her temper. Chiyoko hadn’t cared about Tundra’s disappearance either, but he was enough of an asset to warrant a suitable response.  
“Have a wake,” she replied, waving her staff about and encouraging captured flame to dance. It was her go-to power move.  
Nyima edged away, fearful of fire. “Is that being all you‘re wanting?” She ground her teeth, straightening her back.  
“No, it isn’t.” Chiyoko’s eyes narrowed as she flicked her blunt-cut bob with a smug hand. “I received a missive about you.”  
Nyima remained silent. She couldn’t read, so there was no point demanding to see the letter. Then again, she wouldn’t put it past Chiyoko to lie about its contents. “I would liking it.”  
“I’m sure you would,” she replied, fox ears twitching with amusement. She went to the kidney-shaped desk and retrieved a scroll. “Would you like me to read it for you?”  
“No.” Nyima took it from her.  
“For one who has no higher status than a piece of property you like to act like royalty,” Chiyoko commented in an arch tone.  
Nyima paused by the door. “What does that being meaning?”  
“It means they have summoned you.”   
Nyima was shocked and curious. _This is being from my cissuhan?_  
“It’s a pity losing your skills,” Chiyoko commented with a shrug. “However, you’re haughty, proud and disobedient when the urge takes you. The Ozma will have fun breaking that proud spirit of yours.”  
She didn't reply. Arguing with Chiyoko had no point.

Nyima went to the infirmary. Of those she trusted who could read Illthdarian, one wouldn’t blab about the letter: Date Kinsaburo. The tengu was Toshiiro’s older brother and broke his leg at the fissure. He was in a perfect position to help, without involving her friends.  
“Lyz,” she greeted the spectral spider-creature on night duty. “How are mine friends?”  
“Lerki responds to treatment,” the ghastly green woman replied, gesturing to an end bed in the far corner. “Abaddon sits with him. Seth returned to the barracks to rest; his head wasn‘t enough reason to stay.”  
This was good news.  
“Kinsaburo? Date’s brother?” She couldn’t see anyone with long black feathers for hair and a surly, aristocratic face.  
“Behind the curtain,” Lyz replied, pointing out the single bed with a privacy screen. “Seems the communal atmosphere was too much for his high and mighty,” she added, rolling pale green eyes.  
“May I being seeing him?” It was the perfect opportunity for Kinsaburo to read the letter for her.  
“I’m surprised anyone wants to see him.” Lyz shrugged and shuffled aside. Six spindly legs clicked against the floor tiles. The sound made Nyima want to claw her brain out.   
“Thanking you.” She nodded and subdued a cringe as she brushed against Lyz. She was neither bug nor spectre, but an awful combination of the two. She was also one of the best healers in the Fluorite Order. Pausing before the curtain, Nyima had a problem; how to knock? She fell back on her ways, asking in Illthdarian, “Date Kinsaburo, I’m being standing without and asking within.”  
“Who is it?” came the confused reply.  
“Nyima.”  
A sigh. “Come in.”  
“Thanking you.” She drew back the curtain, let it drop behind her. “How is your leg?”  
“Broken.” Kinsa’s surly description was well-earned. His dark brows drew low over dark eyes. “You’re the last person I expected to visit.” The two had no quarrel, but Kinsa expressed several times he didn‘t know what Nyima’s status was; she dressed like a common prostitute, but carried herself like a royal.  
“In truth, I would not,” she confessed. “Chiyoko is being giving me this and I would for to being liking you to reading it.”  
“Toshiiro could,” he replied, folding his arms. “Why me?“  
“Because you do not knowing me and won‘t being arguing with mine decision.“ She knew what to do. She needed details.  
“Very well.” Kinsa held his hand out. “It bears the insignia of Ozma.” He pointed to the stylized letters.  
She didn‘t care who sent it. She waited while he scanned it, then went back and read it slower. Her eyes followed his progress. _“Well?”_  
“You must talk to the others about this,” he said, rolling it up. “It is a summons. The Ozma says she’s displeased you didn‘t come to her right away, however she’s willing to overlook that if you arrive promptly.”  
She expected as much. “How long does it being taking to travel to Ozma?” She wasn’t from Illthdar and had no reason to educate herself beyond basic information.  
“Two moons by boat,” Kinsa supplied. “The other side of the world. North.”  
_North._ “That’s why she’s being choosing me,” she murmured. Her ice magic grew more potent in the cold. The threat of mana waste diminished. “Does the letter saying anything else?”  
“Only an additional to Chiyoko demanding your release from the Acolytes. ‘Appreciate I do not command our Aetumuh level the city for your insolence.’” He snorted at the empty threat. “Reminds me of Nobumasa’s eggrandising.  
Nyima took the scroll from him. “Thanking you. Please for to being not mentioning this.”  
“You‘re going?” His eyes widened. He grabbed her wrist, hissing at the chill biting his fingers. “Your team lost half its members. You can’t leave.”  
“Mine cissuhan demands.” She prised him off, rubbing her wrist. Tengus ran hotter than humans. It hurt more than when her human friends touched her. “I’m being an Aetumuh. Mine purpose is to being serving mine cissuhan. Anything else is unimportant,” she intoned in a low and hollow voice. She knew the rules. Cissuhan meant everything.   
“Even friends?” Kinsa scowled.   
She could see she hadn‘t lived up to whatever impression he had. She didn‘t answer. About-faced and left, swishing the curtain back, bare feet silent on the tiled floor. _I must for to being leaving. Mine cissuhan commands._ The past two years she waited. Now it happened she didn’t want to go. _How can I after this?_ Her team was in shambles. They looked to her for strength, purpose. _Scyanatha is being trusting me. Zercey would wanting me to caring for Vyxen. Abaddon and Vyxen are being needing me._ There was no resolution. No choice. Cissuhan took priority. They wouldn‘t understand.

~*~*~

Having gathered necessary things from the barracks, Nyima returned to the cottage. She stood outside, unable to enter and wake everyone. Too many questions waited. She couldn‘t answer. It hurt. _Don‘t being thinking about it._  Her companion, a bailukee, floated through an open window. Its pale blue fur turned white in the moonlight. It let out a sleepy moo and head-butted her for affection.  
“I have to being leaving,” she whispered, brows pinching. She stroked the annoying creature. It saved her life on the Northern Mountains. Disgusting drool filled with healing enzymes. It couldn‘t survive without her. Existed on a diet of mana infused snow. “Jingyi will being feeding you.” She choked back a sob. Couldn‘t risk it dying if it came with. She wouldn’t bury another friend.  _Jingyi._ Regret crashed over her. _I shouldn’t have being pushing him away. I wish it was for to being different. I —_ She aborted the thought before it took root. Her feelings weren‘t that deep. She liked him. Enjoyed his company. He had a cute smile and made her laugh. He gave her pleasure. That’s all. He’d been clear when outlining their relationship. She hadn‘t disagreed. She knew she‘d have to leave. Why ask for more? She wasn‘t cruel. She wouldn‘t get involved knowing she‘d hurt him.   
Still, she found herself staring at the bedroom door. She hadn’t tracked her entrance to the cottage. Her eyes frosted over. She wanted to knock on the door. More than anything. She wanted to see him. Touch. Kiss. Tell him how she felt. Her mouth down-turned. She sniffed and scrubbed her eyes. _I won‘t being going if I seeing him._ She turned.

“Nyima?” Tundra’s voice split the darkness and made her jump. “I thought you were sleeping in the barracks?” He stepped out, closing the door behind him.   
“No. Yes.” She didn‘t know the right answer. She swallowed back the miserable lump in her throat. _I having to leave. I don‘t wanting to. I missed you._  
“How are you?” He came close and laid a hand on her injured arm.  
Nyima sagged, sucked in a breath.  
“Sorry.” He dropped his hand.   
They were so close she could feel the heat from him. Faint, but attractive. A ghost of a touch. She swayed. Wanting. Waiting.  
“Does it hurt?” His finger brushed the scar on her thigh.  
She shook her head. “No.” The back of her hand touched his leg. Soft fabric hid hard muscle. She drew in a deep breath. Her breasts slid against his chest. Her breathing sped up. Sex came easy. She yearned for more. He wasn‘t interested. She opened her eyes and placed a hand on his chest. Stopping herself as much as him “I’m being sent on a mission.” She pulled out the scroll. “I’m being having to go.” She put it on the table to explain what she couldn‘t.  
“Alone?” He came over and put his hand on hers, holding her still.  
“I’m being meeting someone there,” she said, avoiding a lie. There were people in Ozma. It counted.  
“We just got back and you‘re injured.” Their gazes met on almost equal footing. Though the emotional balance was still off. He gave her a lop-sided smile, made more so by the injury to his face.  
It made her heart ache to see him hurt. She wanted to comfort him. He looked worn out. In pain. She pulled her hand from under his and put her arms around him. A beat of surprise, then he returned the gesture. “I’m being happy you’re safe.”  
“I’ll come with,” he murmured in her ear.  
Nyima’s heart constricted, but she shook her head. She didn‘t want him to die. Couldn‘t bear the thought. Didn‘t want to imagine it, let alone see it. She couldn‘t risk him. Or any of them. They meant too much to her. She turned her head, capturing his mouth with hers. More surprise. She wasn‘t an initiator. She tightened her embrace. Wanted to imprint the feel of him on her body forever. She wasn‘t coming back. Once the cissuhan’s need resolved the Aetumuh, Carbuncle, would rip her back through a portal. She‘d leave Illthdar. Couldn‘t come back. Onto the next master. Her kiss was goodbye. A message. Said everything she never could. Everything she wanted. Wished for. She never thought she’d meet him. _Seha._  
Tundra’s hands slid up her back. He tugged on the ribbon knotting her top. It loosened. They went down, cupping her ass. A slow squeeze. Tugging her skirt up an inch at a time. Found a gap. Smoothed over soft flesh.  
She moaned into his mouth. Cupped his face. Felt rough stubble against her palms. She tasted mint mingled with his own essence. She wanted. Slid her leg up until he hooked a hand under her thigh. Pulsed into her.   
“We‘re doing this now?” He murmured against her lips. It wasn‘t a complaint.   
“Yes. Please.” She needed to show how she felt. Even if he didn‘t understand. She needed to.  
They moved backwards to the armchair in the corner of the room. Tundra thumped down, pulling Nyima on top. Straddling. She hummed. Felt good. She pressed butterfly kisses to his jaw. Took his mouth with abandon. She’d never see him again. She let go. Threw reservations and modesty away. Stripped her and him. Greedy for his touch. Everyone else hurt or she hurt them. Not Tundra. His touch felt good. When she touched he wanted more. She shuddered at his hands on her hips. His tongue licking into her mouth. Entering. Pulsing. Taking. She wanted so much. His heat addictive. She kissed. Licked. Bit his shoulder when pleasure overtook. His hands. Body. She wanted everything. He thrust hard. Didn‘t hold back. She wanted it. Bit her lip on a moan. Gasped his name. _His_ name. “Jingyi.” Jingyi her lover. Not Tundra the assassin. Tundra the Acolyte who went with any woman. Jingyi was hers. _“Seha!”_ She arched. Pushed her breasts out. He suckled. “Jingyi!” Rough hands roamed all over. Touched everywhere. She felt him everywhere. Gasped. Broke. His thrusts continued as she clutched. Relaxed. He went still. She curled around him as he sagged. Replete. _Goodbye, Jingyi._

 

 


	2. Off to see...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months have passed since Nyima’s departure from Las. Time didn’t stand still during her absence and her friends have gone through several adventures without her. High Elder of the Order of Mana, Chiyoko, gives the team a mission. The Ozma wants their help. While there, Chiyoko wants them to retrieve a celestial item. The exact item that powers the ice barrier protecting the city from invaders. Two months after they're given this order the team arrives in the port of Rose Harbor, Ozma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "The wonderful Wizard of Oz" feature, along with references from the movie and book.

“ _We’re off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Ozma!”_   Vyxen’s singing at the top of her voice as she skipped along the street amused her teammates. Most of them.

“Ozma,” Date corrected, the tenth time that morning. “They don’t have a Wizard.”

Vyxen blew a raspberry at him and continued her tune. _“We hear he is a wiz of a wiz, if ever a wiz there was!”_

“You won’t get through to her,” Tundra commented, shaking his head. “She’s got images of munchkins and talking straw men dancing in her head.”

Date grimaced. “She is in for disappointment.” Munchkin was a derogatory term describing a sub-set of dwarves, and Vyxen could well find herself in trouble referring to them as such. As for talking straw men... “Golems are nothing enchanting.”

“They are when you’ve grown up watching a cutesified version,” Imogen pointed out. “Come on, you know she runs on glitter and happiness.” As he opened his mouth to counter, she added, “After Curran I thought you’d want her cheerful.” 

Date mouthed air.

“And Nyima’s there,” Imogen finished, looking smug.

“That’s good?” he shot back. Nyima left them up shit creek. Losing Scyanatha and Zercey devastated the remaining team members. Waking the next morning to find she abandoned them added insult to injury. The glaring six months of silence afterwards made it clear everyone else cared more for Nyima than she did for them.

 “You read the letter,” Tundra reminded. Though, the look on his face suggested he didn't buy the “reason” anymore than Date had. Hopefully, they’d get a resolution in Ozma. Or, failing that, completed Chiyoko’s mission.

 “All we gotta do is chuck water on her, steal us some ruby slippers and go home!” Vyxen skipped in circles around everyone, mooing at Nyima’s bailukee.

Date’s brow furrowed at how carefree she stated leaving. His feelings for her notwithstanding, he thought she’d grown fond enough of everyone she’d feel something less than ecstatic about leaving. He saw through the front she’d put up since Curran’s attack. He was one type of cat Vyxen shouldn’t want to pet. He’d kidnapped and assaulted her. Everyone left frantic and searching. _Thank the Gods for Imogen._

“They’re silver,” Zercey corrected the misconception.

Date ducked his head and sniggered.

“Silver, ruby, I don’t care if they’re made of trekadisk poo if they work!” Vyxen giggled and danced around the small collection of companions, drawn by her power. Since the animal empathy first manifested she’d learned to control it, but sometimes her exuberance got the best of her.

 “Wonder what the Ozma wants that she couldn’t get from her kind,” Seth commented, voicing everyone’s curiosity about the vague orders.

“If Lerki weren’t stuck in his tree, we could have found out,” Imogen replied, assuming venin communication with the elements could carry gossip from the icy northern land.

A guilty look crossed Zercey’s face. “It’s my fault.”

“You did jump in a fissure and leave him no one to resonate with,” Date replied, still holding a grudge. Lerki was his friend, and he’d almost died because of Zercey’s impulsive actions. “Ow!” He jumped to the side and glared at Seth who punched his arm. “What was that for?”

“You know,” he replied, narrowing amber eyes and jerking his head to a downcast Zercey.

“Oh.” Date flushed with shame. “I didn’t mean to imply–”

“You totally did,” Vyxen shot back, bouncing over and pinching his cheek. “We’ll work on those manners, birb.”

“Is he ok?” Zercey asked, voice small. She knew he wasn’t back to full health because her hair was khaki. Resonating with a well Lerki her hair turned grassy green.

“As good as expected, being stuck in one place,” Seth answered. “He thought his mother’s branch of the tribe would come back for him, but he got a message they’re stranded in Bien.”

“Oh no, I hope they’re ok,” she said, brow creasing with concern.

“I hope Scy’s gonna be ok without backup,” Imogen commented, switching subjects. “She sent you back for us and we’re not allowed to go.”

“Chiyoko said she’d send a team suited to dealing with the court.” Zercey revealed part of a conversation she’d had with the High Elder when she first arrived. “I thought she meant us, but I guess not.”

“Scy will be okay! She’s badass!” Vyxen called, playing hop-scotch with companions blocking the path. “Come on, guys! We’re off to see the Wizard!”

“Ozma,” Date couldn’t help correcting, much to everyone‘s amusement. “And we won’t be anywhere near to the place for two moons, and that’s saying they allow us entry; the Ozma could resolve the problem.”

Vyxen beamed at him. “Did anyone else hear a grumpy birb trying to rain on the parade? I sure didn’t!” 

“If the Ozma could’ve fixed whatever’s happening without our help she wouldn’t have sent for us, right?” Seth said, avoiding the conversation about Scyanatha. 

Date looked at him with sympathy. He could guess what his love sick friend was feeling. Scyanatha’s willingness to leap into a fissure to avoid their relationship was a nasty sting to the heart. He hoped the adage about distance making one’s heart grow fonder was true in Seth and Scyanatha’s case. Else they headed for a doomed relationship.

“There’s that,” Tundra agreed. His irritated tone said more than the placid look on his face. 

Date shook his head. “Keeping things bottled up will do you no favours.”

Tundra snorted. “Who’s keeping things bottled up? I’m not.”

“You’re a bad liar, Muscles.” Imogen patted his shoulder. “Not a good trait for an assassin.”

“Former,” he replied, voice mild. He looked around the group and sighed. “Look. All I’m saying is we can stop in for a chat even if they don’t need us.”

Zercey prompted, “A chat with?”

“Nyima,” he ground out.

“Hallelujah, he admits he wants to talk to her!” Imogen did a nifty handspring flip.

“Aww, look at him,” Vyxen teased, daring to poke Tundra’s ribs. “Still pretending he’s not psyched to see her!”

“Hmph,” Date snorted. “She showed where her priorities lie when she left.” He encouraged Tundra’s pursuit of Nyima, but now he wasn’t so sure it was best for his friend. Tundra returned to Las injured and in need to sympathy and found a cold and emotionless reception, then abandonment.

Vyxen scowled and the bailukee floating beside her mooed its annoyance. “We don’t know what happened. She never really told anyone about how the whole summoning thing works.”

“We never asked,” Zercey added in a guilty tone. “She told Abaddon she _had_ to serve a cissuhan.” 

“Yeah, she told me too, but it sounded like she’s a gladiator, not a slave with no free will.” Vyxen reached out to stroke Nyima’s bailukee. “Poor baby, you miss your mommy.” Her hand trembled. “I don‘t think she’d leave us if she didn’t have to,” she murmured. “We all gotta do stuff for our goals.”

“We’ll find out in Ozma,” Seth said, patting Vyxen on the head like her older brother would.

“Yeah!” she enthused, brightening like a bulb about to burst. She brushed Seth off and linked arms with Zercey and Imogen. “In the meantime... _We’re off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Ozma!”_

~*~*~

Boarding the chartered vessel at the nearby port town of Strug, the team were dismayed to find _they_ were the crew. The two-masted brigantine had seen better days, with its weathered red and green paintwork and visible damage to the starboard aft, but it was clean and tidy.

They could apply the same description to its Captain, a grizzled-looking borrower with ram horns poking through his curly, blond hair. With sun darkened skin his blue eyes looked like ice chips. A thick pelt of tawny fur covered his bare legs and chest. 

“Fucking Chiyoko,” Date grumbled under his breath.

Of everyone, Vyxen had enough experience to please the man. “You’re the lot what’s going to Ozma, huh?” he bit out in a gruff voice. “Great. Bunch of land lubbers without a bit of sense between you!” He stomped towards the mainmast and yanked on a rope, releasing a sail. “Well, I ain’t got all day!”

“Real Prince Charming,” Imogen muttered in an aside. “We’ll stow our things and be right with you,” she said, ignoring his protests.

Down a set of unsanded, wooden steps was a dim and dingy corridor. Doors led off both sides and a peek behind each confirmed the berths.

“Bagsies the biggest!” Imogen called, throwing her satchel in to land on the bed.

“How can you tell?” Tundra replied, craning his head to look. “Oh.”

“It’s a double,” she replied, smirking. “I’m claustrophobic,” she added, as Date opened his mouth to argue.

“Right,” he replied, doubtful. He saw no reason to pursue the matter and let it drop.

“If you want more space, this has one two beds,” Seth noted, pointing to the room beside Imogen’s.

“Mine!” Vyxen snatched hold of Zercey’s wrist and tugged her past Seth and into the room. “I need to share with Zercey... For reasons of a scientific nature.”

Zercey laughed and shrugged. “I’m okay with that.”

“I bet someone isn't,” Seth said to Tundra in an undertone. 

The pair chuckled, failing to look innocent when Date death-glared at them. He didn‘t take issue with the arrangements, and his idiot friends would do well to remember he was a gentleman.

“At least you three get your own rooms for a change,” Zercey pointed out.

Tundra quipped, “Try not to fall off your bunk, Seth. I won’t be around to ice your thick head.” He bared his teeth in a grin when Seth made a rude hand gesture.

“If you princesses are fucking done picking beds I’d like to be shovin’ off!” the irate Captain’s yell carried from on deck.

“We’d like you to shove off,” Zercey muttered, earning chuckles. “Guess we should learn how to sail.”

 

~*~*~

 

“Eugh.” Seth retched over the side of the boat again and gagged when the smell of half-digested fish wafted back up his nose.

“Better out than in.” Tundra’s tone was dry, abstracted.

Zercey winced. “You’re a great friend, you know that?”

“Thanks,” he replied, helping Seth upright. “You feeling better?” 

“Do I look like I’m feeling better?” Seth complained. Seasickness washed out his dark skin and left it with a chalky undertone. Since stepping on the boat two weeks ago he’d spent most of his time lying in bed wanting to die, or leaning over the railing losing his lunch. “How much longer?”

“Another six weeks,” Zercey replied, trying not to find it funny when he groaned and dropped his forehead onto his crossed forearms resting on the railing.

“This is worse than camping,” he mumbled.

Tundra opened his mouth to issue platitudes and found none. “Tag, you’re it,” he said to Zercey, leaving them to it.

“Gee, thanks!” she called back in a sarcastic tone, but placed her hand on Seth’s back and leaned in to cheer him up, anyway. “At least we’re not in Las,” she murmured.  

The city’s toxic environment grew worse. The Order had a nefarious plan in the works. It was all they could do to avoid notice. Being sent away was a blessing, but it left them in a precarious position. They had no news from Las. “If I’d been able to see Lerki before we left we could have arranged messages.”

“Always logical,” Seth joked, voice grating from vomit induced stress. “You didn’t wanna see him just to see him?”

Zercey blushed. “Yes, but it’s better to make sure everyone’s safe.” The team had grown into family. She doubted anyone would choose romantic pursuits over everyone‘s safety. “Abaddon’s okay because the Order are idiots.” Everyone underestimated the blind demi-demon. “They’ll take care of Ona and Kinsa. Lerki’s trapped in his tree until we get back.” Her brows pinched. She felt sorry. Lerki had become rooted. Venin were a nomadic sub-species of nymph and travelled Illthdar according to the whims of the elements.  

 “He’s alive,” Seth pointed out, neglecting to add it was a close thing. Lerki needed venin to resonate with and remain healthy. With none in Las and Zercey gone, his single option was to live within his tree, which was compared to life support. “How’s Scy?” he ventured, careful, neutral. He’d been itching to ask since Zercey appeared at his cottage, but held back for fear of what he‘d hear.

“Being Scy,” she replied, hinting something.

“Zercey, I’m a big boy, I can take it,” he said, with a chuckle that trailed into gagged coughs. He held a hand up for her to wait while the other covered his mouth. “Sorry,” he said after silent heaves. “What’s happened?”

She opened her mouth, but a yell from Captain Ghonru forestalled her.

“Quit gossiping and get to work!”

“Aye, aye.” Zercey stood to attention with a mocking salute, then looked at Seth, concerned. “You okay?”

He shrugged. “Nothing left in my stomach. I should be good for awhile.”

They separated. Seth went to a quiet corner where a sewing kit and damaged sail waited for repair, while Zercey headed below deck to the kitchen for dinner duty, passing Tundra and Imogen chatting. Her footsteps slowed as she took in the pensive look on Imogen‘s face and the fake relaxed posture from Tundra. “Everything okay?” 

“Fine,” Tundra said, though his tone spoke otherwise.

Prone to fits of introspection and “what ifs” Zercey could guess the subject on his mind: Nyima. Seth said the "grand ditching” was all he could talk about for a month after she left. A point both he and Date made to bring up as unusual behaviour. Tundra didn‘t _do_ commitment. 

A tack sharp Imogen looked like she’d mis-stepped starting a conversation and wanted to backtrack in time. “You stressing over work or her?” She gave him an out, expression hopeful.

“Getting Chiyoko a magic staff isn’t a bright idea,” he replied, choosing the former. Though he spoke without confidence, having no plan to discuss the High Elder. “She’d control two elements.”

“She’s trouble enough with the fire staff,” Zercey commented, rolling her eyes. The way Chiyoko waved the chalice-on-a-stick was like a child holding a sparkler.

“True. We’re expected to steal from someone powerful enough to raise an ice barrier, but she needs our help?” He shook his head. “Smells rotten.”

Imogen rubbed her hands together. “Guess I’ll be playing the part of sneaky sneak.”

“If we need camouflage, then yes,” Tundra replied, alluding to Imogen‘s nymph ability to blend into natural surroundings. 

Zercey didn‘t like it. The mission had them stealing from those asking help. The Ozma was a powerful elemental, too weak to do the necessary? However, she had power to command Nyima: one imbued with celestial power to serve cissuhan — those in need. Though, thanks to Illthdar’s mana famine Nyima didn‘t have her full power. _Is that why the Ozma called us? Nyima can‘t complete her mission?_

“Guess we’ll find out soon,” Tundra commented, shoulders drooping from the effort of acting he was fine.

Zercey raised a hand towards him, but he opened his cabin door and slipped inside, shutting it in their faces. She turned to Imogen. “Has he been acting like this long?”

“A total asshole, you mean?” Imogen nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Oh.” Zercey was at a loss. “On one hand, it’s good he cares about Nyima that it affects him.” She wiggled a hand side to side. “On the other...”

“We’re stuck with asshole,” Imogen finished, winking. “Yeah.” She patted Zercey on the back and went on deck. She was due a stint in the crow’s nest and didn‘t need Captain Ghonru yelling at her tardy ass. She got half-way up the rigging, rough rope biting into her bare feet and hands when a giggle stopped her. She smirked at Vyxen flirting with Date. Though, Vyxen would never admit to flirting.

 

“ _Kaa!”_ Vyxen giggled at the piece of knotted rope Date held up for inspection. “Like this, grumpy birb.” She tweaked his beaky-looking nose. They weren’t a couple, no matter how much the others teased. She didn’t want to hurt him, he’d had enough sadness in his life and she was going home no matter the cost. _No matter the cost? Are you sure? Look what happened last time._ Her cheerful expression faded and her fingers went to the scarring on her shoulders.

“How did you learn this?” Date’s sharp question shook her from the dark hole her mind threatened to fall into.

“If you wanna eat, then you get work where you can,” she replied, painting a brief picture of life on the homestead in Alaska. “Fishing boats is good work, but boring. Salem likes it and showed me a few tricks.” She got along well with her big brother, but his sense of responsibility was greater than hers. She wanted a balance between work and fun, preference on fun.

“I assumed your family are all hunters,” he replied, concentrating on the knots. His posture stiff, it was clear he was trying not to discourage her from talking.

She hid a smile. “We do. We do lots of stuff.” She told him different survival methods her family used to get through an Alaskan winter: curing meats, canning fruit, stocking up on wood and other basics. “Everyone has to pitch in, or else...” She trailed off, eyes moistening and mouth down-turning.

“You survived Illthdar,” Toshi reminded in a quiet tone. “A land where you didn‘t know which skills were useful and where things you knew aren’t applicable.”

She glanced at him through her lashes and frowned. _What’s he getting at?_

Confident he had her attention, he continued. “Your family know how to work their land and have friends nearby to help. Things may be lean without you, but they’ll live.”

“I still need to get home,” she mumbled, chewing on her lip. She knew every time she said it she hurt him, but home mattered most.

“Of course.” He tried not to sound miserable and failed. “All I mean is they‘re waiting for you, so stop worrying to death over it.”

Vyxen half-laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Thanks, Toshi.”

“You’re welcome.” He cleared his throat and levelled her with a stern look. “Now, are you or are you not helping me?” He held up the ends of the rope, revealing the tangled mess in the middle.

“How...?” She giggled, making the barrel where she perched wobble.

“Glad to see I amuse you,” he grumped, hiding a pleased smile. He knew how to tie knots, but giving Vyxen a task to occupy her staved off boredom. He also got to spend time with her. They sat in companionable silence for a time. Her chipped rainbow nail polish catching the light as she flicked the rope through deft fingers.

 

~*~*~

 

“Moo~” A thick, slobbery tongue lapped Tundra’s face.

“What the fuck!?” His eye snapped open. He glared at the shadowy blob floating over his face. “Must you do that?” He grumbled, reaching for the glass cover for his left eye. The orange thing in the empty socket made a decent night-light. It never fell out or bothered him much, besides the massive mental, emotional and physical trauma he‘d endured. He‘d adjusted to the self-conscious feeling he got when people saw him. He thought he was okay. The closer they got to Ozma the more he tried to picture Nyima’s reaction. She‘d seen it before she left, but maybe she‘d forgotten. He couldn‘t erase an image of her cringing. He grit his teeth. Another moo drew him from his thoughts. “You’re hungry, now?” he said to the animal, half-way to creating a snowy meal when he realised it waited at the door. “Great. Bathroom break.” He donned trousers and opened the door. “Well?” He shifted from side to side on bare feet when she didn’t leave.

“Moo~” She floated around and butted his back.

“You’re a big girl, you don‘t need me to hold your hand,” he joked in a soft voice, mindful of others sleeping. When the bailukee mooed again, he took the hint and followed her on deck.

 

“Fuck! Ghonru!” He rushed to the side where a long, trailing tentacle tried its best to pull him overboard.

“G-get spear!” he choked, inching the tentacle aside enough to choke out words.

“No time!” Tundra made an ice blade and stuck the beast.

A horrifying gurgling roar and the ship tipped sideways. Tundra hit the opposite railing and grunted. “Fuck!” He wasn‘t good at long range. “No choice.“ He pulled together water vapour, channelling heat out through his bare feet, scorching the deck. Ice encapsulated a golden orb of mana in his fist, which he lobbed at the creature. The frozen projectile hit. Ice swept a path over the tentacle, freezing part to the ship. 

Seth appeared, closely followed by Date and the girls. “What the hell is going on?!”

“Oh my God,” Zercey breathed, lilac eyes wide. “Ammo! We need ammo!”

“And weapons!” Vyxen added, as Zercey ran past.

“Vyxen, your knife!” 

Vyxen slapped the hilt into Imogen’s hand.

Imogen darted across the deck and sliced up a length of rope, which she tossed to Date. “Get it round Ghonru!”

Date unfurled his wings and took to the air. He swooped under the waving tentacle and looped around Ghonru. Landing beside Seth he tossed the trailing rope end to him and pulled. “If we lose him we’re fucked!” 

“No shit!” Seth puffed, wrapping the rope around his forearm and dragging Ghonru out of the slippery grasp.

“What is this fucking thing!?” Tundra shot more ice, but the salt water weakened his efforts. More tentacles appeared, and the ship tipped towards the beast. “Hold on!”

“To fucking what?” Seth lost his footing and slipped, grabbing onto Date who took flight again.

“I’m here!” Zercey returned with bows and flaming arrows. She stayed lodged in the doorway and notched her bow. “We need that guy!” She loosed the arrow and hit a fatty area. The watery bellow under the ship rattled everyone‘s teeth. The ship rocked, violent thrashing that risked capsizing them. Everyone grabbed onto the nearest nailed down thing. Seth slid Ghonru towards Zercey, keeping him from the monster.

“Just die already!” Vyxen lost her balance and rolled into Imogen.

“I got you.” Imogen‘s got a grip, slick with sea water. “I won‘t let go!”

“I know!”

With Zercey thrown about in the doorway it took a minute to find her feet enough to shoot again. Several more arrows and a few extra ice blasts from Tundra had the beast reconsidering taking Ghonru for its meal. It slid from the deck, leaving a smeared trail of orange blood. Deep moans echoed long after the last of its tentacles disappeared from sight.

“The fuck was that thing?” Tundra panted, peering overboard. He couldn’t see anything in the dark waters. He doubted his vision would improve with two eyes.

“Boobrie,” Ghonru gasped, slumping against the wall near Zercey. Sucker marks covered his torso, leeching red blood. He ran a shaking hand through his blond hair. “They attack trading vessels with livestock.” When Vyxen and Zercey looked confused he added, “And they like borrowers. Especially field types.” He looked over at Tundra and nodded in thanks. “If you hadn’t come up when you did I’d be dead.”

“You should thank the fluff ball,” he replied, gesturing to the bailukee, which hid inside a barrel after raising the alarm.

“Good Squishy,” Vyxen praised, patting its broad head when it reappeared.

A distant melody across the waves had everyone turning to the horizon.

“Wow, look at that.” Vyxen pointed where a creature rose against the cresting waves. “It’s a horse.”

“That’s the bastard you just fought,” Ghonru said, dabbing his wounds with a cloth.

Zercey crouched to assist him. “That thing had tentacles.” 

“ _E_ _hn._ This is definitely a horse.” Vyxen pointed, bouncing on her toes like an excited child. “It’s so pretty, and it sounds like the hooves are hitting solid ground, too.” The rhythmic pounding gave a beat to the tune.

“Boobrie,” Ghonru insisted. “Also called water horse.” He eased his way to standing. “We should be all right once we get out its territory.” He waved away offers of help and stumbled towards his quarters.

“Well, that was an adventure,” Imogen quipped, a broad grin on her freckled face. “Here’s your knife back, Vyx. Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“You could at least clean it first,” she joked back, but took possession and checked it for damage.

“Oh, hey, it’s snowing!” Zercey held her hand out to catch the fat flakes on her palm. “Guess that means we’re close to Ozma.”

“Around two-thirds there,” Date revealed, looking everywhere but at the half-dressed women. “We should return to our beds. Ghonru won’t slack on duties because he owes his life to us.”

~*~*~

 

“I’m a little sorry to see you go,” Ghonru declared, as a cry of “Land ho!” came from the crow’s nest. As Date predicted, Ghonru didn’t ease up on them the remainder of the trip, although they earned his respect.

“Little? How dare,” Vyxen replied, mock insulted. “We’re the best crew you ever had and you know it!”

Raised eyebrows and snorts were the reply.

“Guys!” she giggled, turning to glare at her friends. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“How will you return without a crew?” Date addressed what he saw as a problem.

“Don’t you be worrying about what I’m doing,” Ghonru replied, blowing on his hands to warm them. “I know plenty of people in Rose who wanna crew to far shores.”

“Rose?” Zercey echoed, frowning. “I thought we were going to Ozma’s capital.”

“Only port close enough is Rose Harbour,” Ghonru explained, shrugging. “From there you’re gonna have to cross the wastelands to reach the ice wall. Can’t get lost. Can see the damn thing for miles.”

“Aww, he’s worried about us,” Imogen joked, shimmying down the icy rigging to join them. “It’s true. I can already see the top of the ice wall. It’s huge!” She’d rubbed her eyes when she saw a shimmering blob in the far distance, but it was real.

“Covers the whole city,” Ghonru restated. “As for anything outside...” His face twisted, and he shook his head.

“The Ozma only protected the city itself and not the surrounding villages,” Date repeated what he’d told the others the first time the place came up in conversation. “No one knows why she did it. One day the barrier appeared, and they cut all communication.”

“I’ll tell you why she did it,” Ghonru replied, gesturing for everyone to man their stations so the ship could sail into port. “Invaders showed up.”

“Ozma is at war?” Seth glanced to Tundra, then Date, and both shook their heads; fresh news to them, too. “I know it’s a weird country, but shouldn‘t a war be common knowledge?”

“They’re not fighting the munchkins, are they?” Vyxen finished tightening a halyard and looked over at Ghonru, silver eyes wide.

“You call anyone that and you’ll be fighting them,” he replied, blond hair ruffling in the salty air. “Dunno what race they are. Few people left alive to talk aside from everyone knowing they got horns, wear armour and use fire magic.”

Zercey’s head snapped round, and she met Vyxen’s shocked gaze. “Ifrit?” she mouthed, remembering the description Nyima gave.

Vyxen shrugged, but her expression said it explained why Nyima wound up on Illthdar if it was. 

“How do they expect us to get through a barricade?” Imogen wondered aloud. If fire demons took over the land surrounding Ozma, they’d have to fight their way in.

“We’re expected,” Date replied. “Chiyoko sent a floydrake with a message. There should be an emissary waiting.”

“And if there’s not?” Tundra couldn’t help wanting a contingency plan; living proof of the consequences of improvising too often.

“We could send Squishy!” Vyxen suggested, putting her hand up like a child at school. “She was super helpful with the boobrie. She could take a note!”

They had to bring the animal with since she only ate mana infused snow, and her only way of getting it was Tundra. She wasn’t happy about the boat and had gone into semi-hibernation for the duration, waking to eat and toilet.

“ _If_ you can wake her and _if_ she’ll do it, what’s stopping the enemy taking her out before she reaches the wall, and how will she get inside once she’s there?” It wasn‘t his companion, but Tundra didn‘t want it hurt for no reason. Squishy was a support animal, not a front-liner.

“Squishy’s smart and she’ll moo until Nyima comes!” Vyxen held onto her assertion with stubborn determination.

“I’m with Muscles,” Imogen called, in the middle of helping Seth tie off a sail line. “That thing’s a floating target. It’d be cruel making her do something she can’t.”

“I could warg her,” Vyxen argued, abandoning her post to better concentrate on her argument. “She likes me and she’s easy to control. I could get her to the barrier.”

“And risk something happening if we’re ambushed?” Date’s feathers ruffled as he ducked under the boom. “We don’t know how far into Ozma’s territory these invaders are, we have no strategy against them and even if we worked around all that we still have no guarantee anyone will let the bailukee in to give a message to Nyima.” He paused for breath and added, “That’s if she’s still alive.”

“Thanks for the daily dose of pessimism.” Irritated, Zercey gave a rough yank on a line rope that bit into her fingers. “You may be right, but Chiyoko won’t accept us coming back shrugging we couldn’t get past the barrier.” She pulled her cloak tighter, trying to ignore the biting wind.

“Everyone, calm down,” Seth said, noticing Tundra stopping by the rail. He had his arms crossed, back to them all. A clear sign he was in a mood. “For all we know plan A works.” He checked the rope he knotted and joined Tundra. “She’s alive,” he murmured, guessing the reason for the isolation. Nobody wanted to what if their girlfriend’s death. Date needed a punch in the beak.

“I didn’t feel like punching him, that’s all.” Tundra echoed Seth‘s thoughts with a weak chuckle. “We’re not rushing in to save her; she’s not some damsel,” he added, tone suggesting he reminded himself as much as Seth.

“Yeah,” Seth agreed, cupping his hands together and blowing on them. “Those strong women don’t need saving, but sometimes they need backup.”

One side of Tundra’s mouth quirked upward, and he gave an idle scratch where skin met poly-carbide covering along his cheekbone. “I guess she needs it,” he said, revealing suspicions about why Ozma called the Acolytes. “She must be in some deep shit.” He’d been thinking about it throughout the journey. Stubborn as she was, she wasn’t stupid. There was a reason she needed her friends in Ozma and he wouldn‘t let her down.

“I’m guessing you people get breaks in Las,” Ghonru barked from his spot at the helm. “All you lot seem to do is stand around chatting!”

The pair laughed, but took the hint and returned to prepping the ship to dock. 

 

~*~*~

 

Rose Harbour was a disappointment. The name conjured images of flowers in every direction, vendors selling foreign goods in a bustling marketplace and sweet perfumes mingling with salty sea air to create an exotic fragrance. The reality was a barren and derelict harbour. An icy wind blew kicked snow flurries across the unpaved street which led from the dock with a few ships tied up. A pub squatted between warehouses. Few signs of life came from the odd, drunken sailor stumbling through battered doors and staggering to their ships sleep off whatever foul liquor they imbibed. There was a single vendor selling Seth’s favourite food: spiced melon; not that he’d touch it, knowing its evil side effects. Blackened and derelict shops and houses lay further down the street, part obscured by snow; victims of previous assaults by the invaders.

“Damn, it’s cold,” Date complained, pulling the ends of his tengu cloak together. The thick, insulated item coped with Las’s winters with ease. This cold was next level. 

“It’s not that bad,” Vyxen replied, having changed from her usual attire of pixie skirt and top into thicker leggings with leg warmers, a wool miniskirt and a sweater. She also had on a heavy cape with a hood, and gloves. She danced about in the snow, sticking her tongue out to catch flakes.

“You’re from Alaska,” Imogen pointed out, grinning and shaking her head. She grabbed hold of her waist-length, ginger plait and stuffed it down the back of her coat to stop it smacking her in the face. She’d also been smart enough to layer up with tights on under her wool trousers and a vest beneath her cable-knit sweater, but she’d neglected to bring gloves and had to keep blowing on her fingers to chase away the chill.

“I like it,” Tundra commented in an upbeat voice, trailed by a perky bailukee. Squishy floated around his head mooing with happy abandon. As always, Tundra had on a sleeveless, black top from Oto that came with an added kevlar layer sewn in for protection. Red wrist guards on, black trousers and boots completed the look. He tapped the poly-carbide mask. “Guess we’ll see how this stuff handles extreme temperature.”

“You’re the living embodiment of ‘if you pull that face it’ll freeze that way’,” Imogen quipped, lips twisting with wry amusement.

“Lucky me,” he replied with a casual shrug. “Who are we missing?” He looked to the ship. “Seth, Zercey, you joining us?!” 

“Sorry! I couldn’t find my hat.” Zercey appeared, puffing and slipping down the gangplank. “Why north? Why couldn’t we go to a tropical island and get asked to test cocktail recipes?” she complained, pulling on a pair of forest-green gloves. She smoothed her khaki-coloured tresses back from her face and crammed them under the squishy hat she’d bought in Las.

“Because we’d be on Earth and employed by people who aren’t sadists,” Seth bantered, buttoning his ankle-length red coat. “Thanks, Ghonru,” he said, putting his hand out to shake at the others gathered behind. “Doesn’t look like you’ll have much luck finding people to crew with you.” He glanced at the desolate location. 

Ghonru’s bushy brows came together in a doubtful frown as he replied, “There’s always someone wanting to leave this shit hole.”

“Guess we’ll try the tavern.” Zercey pointed right as someone dove off the first-floor balcony. “Oh, my god!”

“He’ll have concussion if he lives,” was Tundra’s amused comment as he broke into a jog. Exclamations and swearing told him the others followed. “Hey!” He slid to a halt and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You still alive?”

“Yeugh.” The man groaned and rolled over. “Acolytes? About time you showed up,” he slurred.

“Is everyone else seeing this?” Tundra looked over his shoulder. At the shocked nods he let out a relieved breath. At least his eye wasn't faulty. The man had a pumpkin head. 

“He’s like the Scarecrow!” Vyxen squealed. The port sucked, but this man redeemed it. “Are other movie creatures real, too? How come you have a pumpkin head? Do you rot in the summer? Why’s your head a pumpkin and not the rest? Do babies have pumpkin heads too? How do women give birth? Do they have to carve their own faces?” Her eyes grew round, and she covered her mouth with her hands to whisper, “Do your people _eat_ pumpkin?” 

Imogen touched her arm. “Vyxen, you‘re scaring him.” 

“Me too,” Seth joked.

The lack of eyeballs in the hollow sockets didn‘t make it clear this was true, but it cut Vyxen‘s verbal stream of questions, which everyone appreciated.

“Scarecrow? I’m not a scarecrow.” The pumpkin-headed man was several beats behind in the conversation. He got to his knees, holding a hand out. “I’m top heavy,” he chuckled.

“Not a problem any of us have,” Imogen joked as Tundra helped him. 

“Speak for yourself,” Zercey muttered, having inherited her mother‘s ample bosom. “Were you sent by the Ozma?”

“Gehail?” He nodded his large, orange head.

“If you’re not a scarecrow, what are you?” Vyxen interrupted, tiptoeing closer and poking his bicep. “That’s regular flesh, so...” She reached up and poked his chin. “Are you born with that? How come it’s a pumpkin?”

“Err, what’s she doing?” He leant back and wobbled, but stayed upright. The slurring lessened as the cold sobered him.

“Being Vyxen,” Zercey giggled. “You might as well answer, she won’t stop till you do and we can’t go anywhere till she’s done.”

“Truth!” Vyxen tilted to the side, trying to work him out. “You’re a pumpkin person?” she persisted.

“I’m a mangaboo,” he replied. “We live in the underground city of Shimshara. We used to,” he corrected, face contorting to display sadness. “The burning men ravage everything and turn it to ash.”

“That’s terrible!” Vyxen‘s typical reaction was a hug, but she’d learned hugging strange people had consequences. “We’ll help stop them!”

The man grinned. “I’m Jack,” he said, frowning when the women laughed. “What?”

“That’s the perfect name for you,” Zercey declared, fussing with the strap on her pack in a motivating gesture. “Which way to Ozma?”

“That-a-way.” Jack replied, spinning round as he tried to point. “Err, I might need a rest for a tick.” His head wobbled on slender shoulders and he grabbed it with both hands.

“Or longer,” Date added in a snide aside, catching wafting, potent fumes. “How many did you have?”

“A little one.” Jack pinched his thumb and forefinger together.

“If he was a giant,” Tundra said to Seth, who snorted.

Jack frowned and the three women gasped at how evil his face appeared. It was a perfect fit for a horror movie. “I’ve been here a few days and the landlord won’t give shelter unless I pay for it.”

“We might as well stay the night and start fresh in the morning,” Tundra decided on hearing that. He strode to the door before anyone objected or offered an alternative.

“Is that all right with everyone?” Date added, snarky and rolling his eyes.

“How come the burning men didn‘t destroy this place?” Zercey queried as they followed Tundra.

“It’s a pub, my dear,” Jack replied, as though that explained everything.

 


	3. Road Trip to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first night in Ozma is less than impressive. The Acolytes and Jack find more trouble waiting the next day. The hits keep coming once they're on the road, with both Tundra and Date taking extreme safeguarding measures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence, attempted abduction, murder.

“Gehail’s barrier got a mixed bag,” Jack slurred. “Sure, she saved the city and a lotta people, but everywhere else is abandoned.” His lips trembled, and he took another long gulp of his drink. “We thought we’d be safe underground, but those things came marching in like they owned us and—” He let out a sob and shook his head. “Only people outside the barrier now are stubborn crazies or soldiers.”

“How has the rest of Illthdar not heard about this?” Date couldn’t understand how such important information wasn’t common knowledge. Apart from the barrier, this was all news to him. He sipped his glass of local brew and regretted it. “I should have known this was foul judging by the establishment.” He wanted to scrub his tongue, but manners prevented crass behaviour.

The tables were worn and broken; lamps half hung from walls, covered in scorch marks and peeling wallpaper. An oppressive and lingering air of defeat clung to surfaces, suggesting the building remained standing as the invaders’ watering hole.

“Ozma wouldn’t ask for help. An’ I guess anyone who showed up looking for answers got dead.” Jack half shrugged. “Puts people off after a while.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Zercey said in a low voice when Jack got up and staggered towards the stinking toilets. “According to Toshiiro, the barrier went up decades ago.”

“Twelve years, to be precise,” Date corrected. “They may have been at war longer.”

“Okay, for at least twelve years this country’s under siege. I can believe them not letting word get out from pride, or some other stupid Illthdar reason, but why wait ten years before summoning Nyima?” It was clear from her tone she’d been mulling on the subject. Zercey finished her glass of wine and poured another from the jug on the table.

“Sometimes a surplus of something means one ends up overlooking a solution,” Date offered.

“They didn’t check the right book,” Seth stated, draining his beer and nodding. “Sounds like Illthdar.”

“Sounds like the plot of every bad fantasy novel,” Tundra countered, tapping his thumb against the side of his mug. “Something happened for convenience’ sake.”

“Truth!” Vyxen echoed. “But sometimes books get it right.”

Tundra snorted and sipped his drink, staring at the wall. It preceded him interrogating Jack when he returned. “Why’d Ozma send you?”

“I work in the palace kitchen,” Jack replied, almost winding up on the floor. Once sitting, he grabbed his glass and knocked it back.

“Isn’t that cruel?” Zercey‘s horror struck look spoke of a vegetable man cutting up other sentient vegetables.

“Eh?” He tilted his head. Seth propped him up when his balance offset. “Why?”

“Well, you know, prepping food,” she said, gesturing at his head.

Jack laughed. “I’m a mangaboo.” 

“Okay, you work in the kitchen. Why’d the Ozma send you?” Tundra drew the conversation back to more important matters besides cooking.

“Don’t matter,” Jack slurred, shrugging. “Gehail needs advisors to advice and soldiers to sold. Anyone with magic gotta stay.”

“You could’ve wound up dead before you found us,” Imogen said, joining the conversation, gaze focused on a suspicious group at another table.

“Maybe she’d send someone else.” Jack shrugged. “Tol’ me stay put ‘til you arrive.” He drained his drink and went to get a refill.

“What’s up, Imo?” Seth looked where he thought she was staring.

“Those three have had their eyes on us since we walked in,” she murmured. “I don’t know if it’s because we stand out, but they’re giving me the creeps.”

“It could be nothing,” Date replied, though he checked for his hidden knives. “To err on the side of caution, we should remain with one other person at all times.”

 

The trio: two men and a woman. The man who caught Imogen’s eye, and set off an instinctive alarm, squatted between the two. His pale skin was like an old dish-rag and a thick scar bisected his down-turned mouth, running from under his nose to his chin. His brown eyes, half-concealed by lank, blond hair, locked with her green ones. He sneered, turning to whisper to the haggard-looking woman on his left. Imogen assumed she was old on first glance, but as the night wore on she grew more vibrant and youthful. Her iron-grey hair shimmered and her grey eyes sparkled like silver. Her greyish complexion grew rosy and her sagging clothing fit better. She sauntered from table to bar, collecting drinks and flirting with men and women, getting a more positive reaction with each pass.

The third of the group had silvery skin and ice collecting on his fingertips. He was thin featured and miserly looking, and when he opened his mouth to speak Imogen spied needle-sharp teeth. “Is that an ice elemental?” she whispered to Date, who studied them covertly as she was openly. 

“A half-breed, perhaps,” Date replied, frowning. The man didn’t look like a typical ice elemental as he knew it, but promiscuity and fae went hand in hand, so mixed heritage was common. “It’s possible they’re merely thieves,” he suggested quietly, noting the woman breaking off from the others to help another female up a set of stairs to where the bedrooms were.

“Ozma isn’t half as much fun as I thought it’d be,” Vyxen said, dejected. “Where’s the yellow brick road and stuff?” She patted the bailukee flopped in her lap, half-asleep.

“Burnt,” Jack replied, overhearing as he returned. “It’s what the invaders do,” he added, shaking his large, orange head slowly. “You couldn’t see it, anyway. Gehail’s barrier makes it always winter, even on the outside.”

“’Always winter but never Christmas’,” Zercey murmured the famous line. “How does everyone cope?”

“What were the Ozma’s orders?” The little mentioned so far didn‘t satisfy Tundra and he persisted with his questioning, though it was getting harder to understand Jack’s answers.

“Jus’ come get you,” he slurred, grinning. “There’s a outpost. They get us in.” He blew a raspberry and a pumpkin seed flew from his mouth. “Tha’s if they’re there.” He drained his glass, tipping his head back until he overbalanced and toppled to the floor.

“Is he dead?” Imogen was trying not to imagine pumpkin meat seeping through a crack in the gourd.

“Out cold,” Tundra replied in an irritated voice, having risen to check the man’s pulse.

“Should we put him to bed or leave him here?” Seth frowned when Tundra retook his seat and ignored the passed out mangaboo.

“He was so helpful to us I think we should return the favour.” It was clear from his tone what he’d prefer. 

“We’ll get rooms and let him sleep it off. We need him clear-headed to guide us around enemy platoons,” Date suggested. There was also the matter of the pair at the other table, still acting suspicious. If they were getting into a fight, he’d prefer it in daylight and without half their team having faulty perception due to drink.

 

~*~*~

 

“Wake up!” Vyxen bounced on Zercey’s bed, then did the same to Imogen once she showed signs of movement. “I can’t wait to see Ozma! Can you believe it?” She grabbed Imogen’s arm and pulled. “Did either of you think one day we’d be able to say we went to Ozma?!”

“I’d be happier saying it with a few more hours sleep,” Zercey groaned, pulling the covers over her head. 

Vyxen yanked them off again. “Nope! Rejected! Sleep is for the weak! Even if it’s not exactly like the books, I still wanna explore!” She balled Zercey‘s blanket and hugged it. “Can‘t do that with you guys in bed!” 

Zercey scrubbed her hands through her messy hair and over her face. “I hate you.”

Vyxen bounced away, laughter echoing as she went to find the boys and annoy them into rising.

“You getting up?” Imogen stayed put.

“In a minute,” Zercey replied. They‘d talked for awhile once the group separated. She and Imogen chatted longer after Vyxen‘s sugar rush crashed, and she fell asleep. “You think Nyima will tell us what’s going on?”

Imogen sat up and shrugged. “You know her better than me.”

 _Debatable. She didn‘t tell us about Aetumuhs besides needing to complete her mission. Then she only talked about ifrit. Nothing about connections._ She rubbed her forehead. _No solving it now._ “Better get moving before Vyxen jumps on us again.”

 

“Okay, where’s Vyxen?” Zercey noted her absence. Date was the most alert, having avoided drinking. Seth and Tundra looked grimy and grumpy. At the rear, Jack held his pumpkin-head with both hands, looking less bright orange than the day before.

“She’s not with you?” Date frowned. “She burst into our room and, after ensuring we were awake, left.” He swapped looks with the others, posing a question.

“It wasn’t long ago,” Tundra guessed, having been sort-of-awake, anyway. A light sleeper, he heard Vyxen coming before she opened the door.

“Goddamn it. I knew we should have walked her back.” Seth picked up his pace. “Let’s hope she found someone harmless to annoy with her million-and-two questions.”

“Did she take the bailukee?” The companion went to Tundra for food, but otherwise preferred Vyxen’s company.

“If she didn’t on purpose, then miss Squish is following her, anyway,” Zercey replied. Temia attached to people as part of a symbiotic relationship. 

“So, we keep an ear out for mooing,” Imogen quipped, tone lacking its usual humour. “No way anyone runs off with Vyxen with the foghorn alarm system around.”

Imogen’s guess turned out accurate, as they ran into the mooing companion at the bottom of the stairs. “Where is she?”

Temia twirled and flew off faster than any thought her capable, heading out of the tavern.

“In trouble,” Seth translated, chasing after.

~*~*~ 

“Quit struggling!” The surly blond from the bar had his arms around Vyxen’s waist, holding her off the ground as he backed to a waiting gig down the road. “Them branders’ll give us plenty o’ coin for one pretty as you!”

“Eat shit!” Vyxen swung her legs back and forth, kicking his shins. “ _Ni waa giishkizhan giinag!”_ She squirmed and got a hand around her knife and pull it from its sheath. She stabbed wildly and ended sprawled on the ground when he let go. _I need to get the others! I gotta get back inside!_ It wasn‘t her first abduction, but last time she’d been gullible enough to walk off with her abuser. This time she‘d fight until her dying breath. _No way these guys have ruby slippers!_ “Toshi!” She ran. Stumbled when the man dove for her legs. Kicked him in the face. On her feet again. Slipped in the icy mud. _Almost there! Why is Illthdar mud so slippy?!_ She wished she had her winter boots from home. She‘d kick serious ass in those and not worry about falling on hers every five seconds. 

“Little bitch!” The man rolled onto his back, clamped a hand to his side. “Come help!” 

“Do I look stupid?” the silver-skinned cohort replied in a nasal tone.

Vyxen assumed she was safe, then she heard the old woman.

“Go help Veral.” 

The man sighed and leapt from his perch. “Don’t blame me if she dies.” 

This statement froze the blood in her veins. Nyima wasn‘t cold enough to kill with a touch, but this one could? She redoubled her escape efforts, sucking in frigid air, keeping her eyes on the doors. _Almost there! So close! Let me in! Toshi! Zercey! Imogen! Seth! Help!_ She was at the tavern doors when an icy hand clamped around her wrist. 

“Come on.” 

Ice formed over the top of her wrist guard. Her eyes widened. _He can kill with a touch._ She mouthed air, brain on standby. Her father’s knife in hand she clutched it like a drowning person does a life-preserver, not thinking of using it for its intended purpose. It was like the man froze her thought processes, too.

A loud moo announced the bailukee. It appeared through a window and flew around the man’s head.

Temia’s action moved Vyxen to act. “Let go!” She swung her arm, fist balled clutching the knife. She punched him in the chest. Her arm jarred and knuckles stung, but she went back for another go. “Let go!”

“You heard!”

A flash of steely light flickered, and the man fell to the ground, screaming. Beside him lay his severed arm.

Vyxen shrieked and jumped back.

“Was that an overreaction?” Seth questioned, as the group caught Date sheathing his sword.

“Little bit,” Zercey said, pinching her thumb and finger together. She swallowed bile crawling up her throat when she glanced at the kidnapper’s severed arm. She spotted the blond man getting to his feet. “But, Illthdar.”

“Let’s go!” The old woman screamed.

The man staggered towards her, climbing into the gig as it drove away leaving the one-armed man behind.

“They wanted to sell me!” Recovered, Vyxen kicked him. The bailukee floated close and mooed loudly. “Good Squishy,” she praised. She laughed and petted the animal when it dropped to the ground and pissed on the kidnapper.

“I said they were up to no good,” Imogen commented, voice shaking. Adrenalin left her jittery, bouncing on her toes. Her eyes darted around, looking everywhere but at the severed arm lying feet from its owner. “Should we do something about that?”

“Vyxen got a few licks in at least,” Tundra complimented. “Although, next time, use the pointy end of the knife and don‘t punch the guy with the hilt.”

“I knew that,” she replied, shivering and scraping mud from her trousers. “I wasn‘t thinking.”

“He’ll bleed out if we don’t,” Seth answered Imogen, pulling a strip of fabric from the inside pocket of his coat and using it as a tourniquet.

“Slavers do not deserve help,” Date declared, sneering.

“We can’t question him if he dies,” Tundra pointed out, crossing his arms. “Are they associated with the invaders? Or is this just Ozma?”

The group clustered around the tavern porch, waiting until Seth finished. “Now,” he began in a cheery and conversational tone, “what were you going to do with our friend?”

“I told you,” Vyxen interrupted, looking up from where she was cleaning her hunting knife on a scrap of cloth, having washed it in the snow. “They wanted to sell me to some people they called ‘branders’.”

“’Branders’?” Seth echoed, frowning.

“Are they the invaders?” Tundra followed up.

“You foreigners don’t have a goddamn clue,” the man replied, weak from blood loss. He touched his stumpy arm, sending cauterising the wound with ice. He hissed a breath. “The rest of Illthdar’s happy to let us rot. Gehail’s a fucking bitch who only protects the elite. How else should we fucking survive?”

“Not kidnap people?” Imogen and Zercey said in unison, the sarcasm in their voices mingling pleasantly with their differing tenors.

“If they left you alone because you gave them someone else, you’d do it.” The man’s head lolled, and he shuddered.

“No, we would not,” Date bit out through gritted teeth. “I should have killed you.” His hand fisted and Vyxen put hers on his forearm.

“He’s not worth it,” she said. “Where’s Jack?” She suddenly realised the mangaboo wasn’t with them.

“Inside, drinking himself into an early grave,” Tundra replied. “We should grab him and get going.” He crouched down beside the grey-skinned man. “But first, you’ll tell us whereabouts the invaders’ positions, so we can avoid them.”

The man’s laugh hollow laugh accompanied a grin filled with pointy teeth. “Why would I tell you that?”

“Because,” Tundra said, tone turning lethal as he cracked his knuckles, “there’s so much more you could live through than losing an arm, and I’m in a teaching mood.”

 

~*~*~

 

“Can we trust the info?” Zercey questioned again. She and the others left Tundra to his interrogation to stop Jack pickling his brain and losing another day’s travel. When they returned Tundra was cleaning his hands and listed landmarks where the invaders set up traps.

“There’s a point information becomes untrustworthy because people will say anything to avoid pain,” Tundra revealed, as he added another pelt to insulate his horse from his chill, “but it’s easy to see.”

“Well...” Jack seemed at a loss. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring enough mounts,” he said at last.

“It’s best if I act as a lookout.” Date rolled his shoulders and unfurled his wings.

It was clear no one expected the Acolytes couldn‘t share rides. Tundra had his own thanks to his frost layer. Jack’s weight was greater than appeared, leaving the others to work out who rode with whom. Date flying made things easier. Imogen and Seth rode together and Zercey and Vyxen shared the other.

“Can you believe the horse of a different colour is real?!” Vyxen squealed. The sight cheered her after her run-in and watching them cycle through rainbow hues was a dream come true.

“They must be related to rathe,” Zercey said. “Although, I can’t see the point of changing colours like this. Rathe use theirs to hide from predators.”

“Rathe are the offspring of pegasus and myriad,” Jack revealed, giving the proper name to the horses. “Myriad used to live in the kaleidoscopic fields, but they’re gone now...” His shoulders slumped. “Ozma used to be a beautiful island with few conflicts between our races, but once the invaders arrived, everyone fled to the city and Gehail raised the barrier.”

“Why didn’t she ask neighbouring countries for help?” Imogen asked, riding beside him.

“Who would we ask?” Jack shrugged. “Gehail’s proud, with a long ancient bloodline to uphold. The rest of Illthdar’s busy squabbling over crystal shards and land grabs. If the White King came he’d take Ozma. And he‘s the nice one. Same goes for any of them.”

“The Ozma couldn’t trust she’d still be Ozma when it was over.” Seth shook his head. It was a simple explanation, but it fit. It improved the hash Jack made of explaining the night before. “Why’d she ask for us now, though?”

“Ah, not sure.” Jack shrugged. “There’s rumours about a soldier – ”

“Nyima?” Vyxen called, excited.

 “I just work in the kitchen,” he replied, regret colouring his tone. He revealed, “I only got this job because I knocked a plate on the floor clearing the dining table.”

“What?” Zercey’s eyes widened. “You tipped a plate over and the Ozma sent you to die for it?” She shook her head. “No wonder you were trying to drown yourself on land,” she muttered under her breath.

“I know, right?” Vyxen whispered back, having overheard. She‘d thought Gehail sounded okay, but her actions with Jack proved her wrong. “There’s a soldier who got the Ozma to send for us. It must be Nyima.”

“Maybe,” Zercey murmured. “He didn‘t seem to know her name. It’s odd.”

“I didn’t die, though. You’re here and we’re heading back to the city!” Jack perked up. “It’s two days' ride and with Mr Tundra’s information we should slip past the invaders, no problem!”

Seth, Imogen, Vyxen and Zercey sniggered.

Tundra, in the centre of the group, shook his head. “Tundra is fine.”

“What’s Ozma like? Is the city made of emeralds?” Vyxen couldn’t help but picture it the same as in the film.

“Emeralds?” Jack laughed. “That’d run the poor soldiers off their feet trying to stop all the robberies!” He sobered. “No, the buildings are limestone with copper roofs.”

“Copper turns green when it oxidises,” Zercey explained in Vyxen’s ear.

“Well, that’s less neat,” she replied, disappointed. “Come on, Jack. The city’s your home, you must have stories!”

There was a hollow hum. “Anything I tell you would be the past,” he replied. “Ozma isn’t like it was in the old days when people had dances for Year Turning and Imbolc. Most of the city dwellers descended from ice elementals, so they’d have a huge celebration every Winter Solstice.” Jack spread his arms wide to emphasise just how big it was. “All around the main square they crafted petal-shaped ice shields, going from the ground, onto balconies, all the way to roofs. There’s a fountain in the centre of the square and they‘d freeze it, making a stage. People set up ice instruments and take turns playing and singing. The sound bounced off the shields and echoed over the city! It didn’t matter where you were, you heard it.” Jack drew in a deep breath and sighed. “We only got to go once, but it‘s something I’ll never forget.”

“Sounds like a real event,” Seth said, after a moment’s silence. He looked at Tundra, who nodded. “The people are ice elementals?”

“Hmm,” Jack replied. “Descended from a race of ice elementals I heard.”

 

There wasn’t a chance to question Jack further. An arrow struck the ground a few feet in front of his horse, drawing everyone to a stop.

“Toshi’s seen something,” was Seth‘s needless commentary.

“This is why we need mobile phones,” Zercey commented in a sarcastic lilt.

Date landed in front of the group and made them wait while he put his wings away. “Your friends from this morning are up ahead, Vyxen,” he said at last. The tension in his voice accompanied him gripping the hilt of his sword so tight his knuckles whitened.

“Scum!” Her face twisted with malice. “They’re dead when I catch up to them!”   
Trailing behind, Squishy picked up on Vyxen‘s feelings and made angry noises.

Correctly reading the expression on Date’s face, Seth said, “Yeah, I think they are.”

“Huh?” She tilted her head to the side, strands of silver hair slipping from beneath her hood, caught by a playful wind.

“Someone beat you to it,” Imogen translated. “Invaders?” She studied Date’s face to see if he’d give anything away.

“They’re half a mile up the road, so we shall find out,” he replied, expression neutral. “I didn‘t spy movement, but we should remain on guard. Jack, swap places with Tundra and let him lead.”

“All right.” Jack waited for Tundra’s mount to take point. “You have ice magic, correct?” 

“That’s right.” Ozma’s climate made it easier for him to use his abilities, and his mission half a year or so ago further strengthened his skills. “Any fireballs come our way and they’ll be nothing but steam.” He cracked his knuckles and had to snatch the reins as his myriad shied at the noise.

“Dork. ” Vyxen and Zercey giggled.

 

The group advanced with caution, slowing even further as the overturned cart came into view. Small plumes of smoke wafted up on the wind, bringing with it the scent of burning wood and flesh.

“Ew,” Zercey said, covering her nose and trying not to gag. “I know they were in it together, but no one deserves that kind of death.”

“Looks like the one-armed bandit got off easiest,” Tundra noted, having left him lying unconscious in the snow. “At least he’s still alive.”

“Unless he succumbed to blood loss,” Zercey pointed out. “Not to mention blood poisoning or maybe being robbed by someone else.”

“He wanted to sell me to the invaders,” Vyxen reminded her, guessing the reason for misplaced concern. “He wasn’t even close to being the same as Lerki.” Zercey hadn‘t a chance to check on Lerki‘s state before they left, but losing an arm during the trip to the Northern Mountain hadn‘t changed him one bit. Vyxen wished she’d soothed Zercey‘s concerns better on the boat trip over. She hadn’t been a good friend.

“I know. It’s just—” she broke off as a sound came from the far side of the cart. “Is it a kidnapper?”

Tundra dismounted, followed by Imogen. “I’m okay to check,” he told her.

She shot him a wry smile and strung an arrow onto her bow. “Three eyes are better than one.”

He couldn’t argue, but took point.

The stealthy pair made no sound as they reached the far side of the cart and split. Tundra took the farside, while Imogen took the near. A quick, synchronised nod, and they both disappeared.

A steaming fireball clipped the edge of the cart, closely followed by a figure in armour.

“Imo! Tundra!”

“Get back here!”

There was a twang as Imogen fired an arrow with a rope attached. She appeared, grinning as the rope tangled in the man’s legs and he tripped.

“Nice shot!” Tundra commented, as he raced past to capture him. “On your left!” He shot off a blast of ice that smacked into another attacker, who was trying to flank the rest of the team.

“Sneaky!” Zercey accused, pulling her spear from its sling at the myriad’s side. She stuck the pole end out and caught the fleeing man as he ran by her and Vyxen. He spun round, off balance and Vyxen kicked him in the face with a muddy boot.

“Ha!” Vyxen shimmied as the man fell to the ground, unconscious.

“I thought they’d be tougher,” Zercey commented, looking confused.

Tundra scuffled in the dirt with the other attacker. An elbow to the face didn‘t make him pause for breath. He locked his legs around the armoured foe. He slipped his arms up under the man’s armpits and linked hands behind his neck. “I’ll break your spine.” 

The man stilled, then redoubled his efforts to escape.

“Fuck this.” Tundra arched. There was an audible crack. The man screamed and went limp. “I’m beyond playing nice,” he complained, dusting himself off. “What I hear you guys deserve everything you get.” He ripped the man’s helmet off. “And I thought my face was one only a mother could love.”

The invader was much like Ghonru described. A set of horns grew from the top of his head, small and curved flush against his temples, ending where his pointed ears began. He had long, pitch-black hair and bright red skin. His upper half thrashed in pain, while his legs remained motionless.

“It’s a dzoavits,” Date revealed, drawing Jack’s gaze, as they stood over the demon.

Seth placed a boot against his shoulder to pin him down and get a better look.

Tundra replied, “How do you know?”

Date sighed. “I'm a demon.”

“But not a demon encyclopaedia.” Tundra gave him the once over and added, “Unless you're really Abaddon in disguise.”

Ignoring the stupidity, Date returned to the man under Seth's foot. “Who wants to wager the other is?”

“What other one?” Zercey said, gesturing. A disappearing figure headed into a line of trees on their left.

“Fuck,” Seth muttered. “We’ve gotta catch him before he warns anyone.”

“I’ll go,” Tundra offered, cracking his knuckles.

“Haven’t you maimed enough people today?” Imogen quipped, shouldering her bow and shooting a look. “Save some for whoever the Ozma sent us to take out.”

Tundra looked at the dzoavits, then her. “Who else do you think she sent us to kill?” At the round of feminine looks reminiscent of his girlfriend’s “I am not amused” stare he said, “Fine. I’ll babysit this guy and see what he has to say.”

 “I’ll go. I’ll blend in easy,” Imogen said, already mounting her and Seth’s myriad to carry her the distance.

“Vyxen, too,” Date decided. “You’re used to hunting in forest terrain.”

“You’re not coming?” she returned, tilting her head to the side.

“Of course I am,” he replied, holding a hand out to help Zercey down.

“Why am I staying?” Zercey questioned, though she slipped from the saddle to save time.

“Because someone has to restrain Tundra, and I doubt Seth is up for the task.”

“Hey!” Seth’s expression looked offended as his tone. “I can handle him.”

Date snorted and pulled himself up behind Vyxen. “Let’s go before reinforcements arrive.”

“Squishy, stay.” Vyxen pointed at the ground and the bailukee mooed, lowering until its squat legs sank in the mud. “Good girl.”

The two myriads kicked up muddy slush as they pounded away towards the ragged-looking forest.

 

“I can handle him,” Seth repeated, voice faint. 

Tundra smirked.

“Oh, fuck off,” Seth said, crossing his arms as Zercey laughed.

“It’s not my fault no one believes you,” Tundra replied, moving to the cart. He paused before sticking his head underneath to check the state of the victims. “Anyone want to swap with me?”

“Not it!” Zercey shot out, grinning when Seth groaned.

“That’s...not fair,” he moaned in an undertone. “Make sure he doesn’t make any sudden moves.” He pointed at the dzoavits.

“I really doubt that’ll be a problem,” she replied with a sarcastic twist of her lips. “Jack, it’s okay to get down. This one won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, I’m all right here, thank you!” he called back in false cheerful voice. The waver hinted at the undercurrent of fear.

“What’s with you and not looking at results?” Seth questioned Tundra, as they tipped the cart back onto its side. “It’s not like you get nightmares.”

“You have your thing and I have mine,” he replied, shuddering when a burned hand touched his arm.

The two bodies inside the cart were beyond identification, but they guessed it was the man and woman who’d tried to kidnap Vyxen.

“Guess they got what was coming to them,” Seth said, shrugging one shoulder. The cart toppled upright, and the bodies collapsed in the driver’s seat.

“Karma,” Tundra agreed, nodding. He peered into the cart, searching for something useful. “Empty.” He glanced back at the dzoavits. “Wonder what he and his pal were hanging around for.”

“People like us,” Jack called. “It wouldn’t matter how many days passed between this and the next set of travellers along the road, it would’ve been enough to make anyone stop and see if there were survivors.”

“They’re robbing people?” Zercey’s surprise was clear. “Is it me or do these creatures not seem half as threatening as we’ve heard? And now they‘re playing Robin Hood?“ 

“I doubt they‘re feeding the poor,” Tundra replied, sniffing at the stench of death clogging his nose. 

“They take women,” Jack reminded her. “They’re never seen again. Sometimes groups are heard about in Rose Harbour looking for fun.” His expression grew grave. “There’s others roaming you never want to meet.”

“The fringes are less policed, so these guys could be rogues.” The picture was becoming clearer. “No wonder we didn’t have trouble taking them down.”

“The only thing is, there’s usually one of the stronger ones with them,” Jack added, pumpkin-like features contorting with concern. “Your friends rushed off before I could say anything.”

“Shit.” The trio swapped looks. 

“Should we go after them?” Seth suggested.

“Date’s got his bark and the girls have their bows and arrows,” Tundra reminded him.

“Women,” Zercey quipped, parodying Date’s tone and smirking when they sent her amused glances. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“There’s nothing usable,” Tundra said, moving away from the cart. “I guess I’ll just ask this guy some questions.”

“No.” Zercey moved to block him.

“What? Everyone knows something.” Of the three he was best suited to interrogation.

“You need to relax on the grievous bodily harm,” Zercey said. “Since we boarded the ship you’ve been way quicker to strike out.”

“No one who didn’t deserve it,” he argued, frowning.

“Zercey’s right,” Seth said, moving to stand beside her. “Date went overboard protecting Vyxen, but you’re pissed off and that’s dangerous.”

Tundra laughed. “I’m not pissed off.” He held his hands out and looked incredulous. “I’m as chill as can be,” he added, chuckling at his own joke.

“Forgive me for saying,” Jack intervened, “but I don’t rightly know how Acolytes should act, but...” He trailed off as Tundra glared.

“See, that’s not nice!” Zercey poked his chest. “Jack’s scared of you!”

“He looks like a Halloween reject,” Tundra argued. “He should scare us.”

“Dude...” Seth shook his head. “You stand watch and I’ll talk to this guy, if he hasn’t passed out from pain.” The dzoavits was silent.

“Or dead,” Zercey added, annoyed. “We could’ve taken him without snapping his spine.”

“And here I thought I was the one who did that,” Tundra griped, mounting and going to keep watch.

“If he doesn’t snap out of it soon I’ll punch him,” Zercey promised.

“He’s going through some stuff,” Seth said, though didn’t disagree with her plan.

Of them all, Tundra had the biggest popularity in Las. He hadn‘t gone a week without a proposition. A ninja assassin, he had warped ideas about relationships and sex. Kindness and gentle touches weren‘t familiar. He could disassociate. Things got bad for him back on his home world, caught in a war that cost him part of his face. Gone a year, but on Illthdar it was a few weeks. He’d missed his friends. Missed his girlfriend. Couldn‘t admit it. Didn‘t want to acknowledge there was more going on in his head besides wanting fun times. He didn‘t do emotion. It was making him act out, and he knew it. He punched harder, argued louder and snapped quicker. He never thought he’d be anything less than chill. 

_Fuck my life. I find stuff to stick around for and this shit happens. Ozma better stay out of my way, or else._

 

 


	4. A Rescue and a New Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vyxen, Date and Imogen track the enemy into the forest and come upon a derelict cottage. Sounds from inside chill their blood, but they soldier forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes mention of rape/sexual assault

 

“Wow, this guy’s not stealthy one bit,” Vyxen murmured. She crouched close to the ground, one hand beside a set of muddy footprints, checking tread depth. There were signs of a panicked person fleeing: slips in the mud, broken branches and debris lining the rugged path leading into the forest. “I think he ditched his armour,” she added, standing up and re-donning her gloves.

“What makes you say that?” Date replied, tying their myriad’s reins to a tree branch.

“His footsteps are lighter after this slip here,” she said, pointing.

“Yep, no armour,” Imogen confirmed, yanking a metal chest piece from a nearby bush. “Who does that?”

“Besides arrogant faeries?” Date returned in a dry tone.

Imogen snorted. “Good point. Forget I said anything.”

“If he rejoined a platoon it might come in handy,” he continued. “Bring it along.”

“Are you carrying it?” Imogen offered, wry smile touching the corner of her mouth. “I’m stealthier when I’m not a pack animal.”

“Aren’t we all,” he muttered, taking it by the straps. It dangled by his thigh like a handbag. “We should assume we’ll meet resistance.”

“Duh,” Imogen murmured, as she took the tail end of the trio, with Vyxen leading and Date in the middle.

 

With Vyxen’s expert tracking skills and the dzoavits’s complete disregard to stealth, it didn’t take long to find him.

They arrived at a small, half-collapsed cottage nestled in a tiny clearing. The treeline went to the crumbling stone wall. On the other side long grasses grew to knee height. The thatched roof had fallen in on one side and harsh weather broke all the windows. The door hung from its hinges allowing sobbing cries within to echo out.

“Did they take that woman?” Vyxen whispered, eyes widening with horror. Sure, the trio were trying to kidnap her for this exact purpose, but no one deserved it.

“We didn’t get a body count,” Date murmured back, assuming it was the elderly-but-not woman they heard.

“We need a head count,” Imogen said, creeping over the wall.

“Imogen, wait! We need a plan!” Date hissed, but it was too late. Camouflaged within the grasses, Imogen became invisible to the naked eye. The only sign of her was rustling grasses parting.

“She’ll be ok,” Vyxen said, confident in her friend’s abilities. “She’ll count them and come back. Imogen doesn’t take stupid risks.”

Date grumbled but couldn’t argue, having firsthand evidence; if it hadn’t been for her caution Vyxen wouldn’t be with them now.

 

Imogen made little noise as she reached the tumble-down cottage. Her years of circus and Quartz Order training were plenty to develop covert mission skills. Her breathing steady and even. She watched her footfalls and didn’t dislodge debris. She tried to ignore the grunts and gasps within, but no training prepared for that. From her crouched position, hunkered in a shadowy corner by a small window, she edged her fingertips upwards. Rough stone walls scratched her palms until her fingers met wood frame. Slower than she liked, she inched upwards until her eye line crested the window and she saw in.

The window belonged to a small, empty bedroom. Someone ripped the door from its hinges allowing her to see the living room where nightmarish noises came from.

An armoured figure bobbed up and down, appearing and disappearing behind the low-backed sofa with each thrust. Grunts answered sobs. 

Imogen swallowed and looked away. She needed to count the enemy. In the far corner was their dzoavits. He looked disgusted, but continued to watch. Otherwise the room was empty. Imogen circled the cottage, looking through other windows. _Nobody?_   _Are they stragglers? Deserters?_

Having seen enough, she returned to Date and Vyxen.

 

“Two.” Her upper lip curled. “Main room. Dzoavits in the corner. Rapist on the sofa.”

Date’s brows came together, suspicious. “That contradicts our intel of these invaders.”

Imogen shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said. “There’s two. Maybe Gehail’s been lying.”

“Let’s go kill that raping scumbag.” Vyxen’s dark tone and violent statement countered her usual mien. She drew her bow and strung an arrow.

“I’ll lead,” Date contradicted, placing his hand briefly over Vyxen’s. “My bark is better effective in a small space. We know the dzoavits isn’t wearing his chest plate; he’s an easy target.” He looked at Imogen for further information.

“The other guy has his lower armour off. Still wearing his chest piece. No idea about the helmet. The dzoavits ditched all of his.”

“Aim for a leg,” he said to her. “Vyxen, the other is yours.”

“Good,” she replied with a firm nod. She glanced over her shoulder as something growled.

“You need to calm down, or you’ll give us away,” Date pointed out, realising her empathic power drew local wildlife.

“Right.” A deep breath and she smoothed her expression. “Let’s go.”

Date flew into the sky, then swooped low, brushing the womens’ heads as he aimed for the cottage entrance. The tengu bark was akin to a sonic boom, and it bounced around like an explosion. Not lethal enough to kill the occupants, it stunned and disorientated them. Having done his part, he pulled up and circled around to land as the women rushed in.

The dzoavits had his hands covering his ears. Vyxen‘s aim was exact. A clean kill. She wouldn‘t lose sleep over because of him, either. 

Imogen did a one-handed cartwheel, landing in position to shoot the other target‘s calf. 

A hollow bellow sounded under the helmet. He stilled his thrust for a beat, then continued.

Imogen‘s puff of surprise preceded another shot in the leg. More screaming from the monster. Shrieks from the woman as it pounded harder. “The fuck is this thing?!” 

The rapist‘s rapid thrusts hit fever pitch. He stilled. Groaned satisfaction. Thrust slower. 

The woman sobbed, thrashed her head. Cried, “No!” 

The rapist rolled off, grabbed the arrow shafts sticking out of his leg and pulled. 

The woman curled into a ball, arms covering her face.

Date reappeared in the doorway. “Please, give me a reason,” he said, aiming his sword at the rapist’s throat. 

The rapist growled. Raised the bloody arrows in threat. 

Another arrow hit his leg. He howled.

“Don‘t try,” Vyxen bit out, already drawing another. 

A loud sniff echoed inside the helmet.

“You crying?” Imogen mocked.

“It‘s scenting,” Date stated. 

“That’s an animal trait,” Vyxen replied. “You‘re not an animal,” she continued in a pleasant voice. At Date and Imogen‘s raised eyebrows, she concluded, “You’re a monster.”

“She’s not from the tavern,” Imogen said of the weeping woman, spying dark hair and a tattered, plum-coloured dress. “Maybe she was in the cart.”

“Shit,” Vyxen muttered. “We could have saved her.”

“We didn’t know she was there,” Date replied, trying to soothe her guilt, and his own. He could have pursued, but didn’t because he didn‘t think they were a threat.

“We’re here now,” Imogen reasoned, crouching by the woman. “We’re here to help,” she whispered, wincing when she flinched. “It’s okay.”

“Toshi, look out!” Vyxen fired at the lunging rapist. The arrow rebounded off its armoured chest plate.

Date side stepped and swung his sword in a graceful arc, severing the attacker’s hand at the wrist where glove met arm guard.

A spatter of dark-blue blood sprayed, and he collapsed, bellowing and clutching his wrist.

“Let’s get this off,” Date suggested, flicking blood from his sword. He yanked the helmet off.

“Another dzoavits?” Vyxen said, spying horns and under bite.

While similar, this rapist had tufty hair and smaller horns. His nose a shortened snout, must have pressed against his helmet making the tip squashed and pale. He had large, protruding canine teeth. His golden skin had a covering of sparse fur. His spine curved, his arms dragged the ground. His large fists and haunches said he could run on all fours. He fixed them with a set of piercing blue eyes and growled.

“No, I don’t think so,” Date replied, comparing him to the other. “A demon, but not a dzoavits.”

The rapist snarled. Spat words in a foreign dialect. He stared at the women and mouthed air.

“It’s times like this we need Abaddon,” Vyxen said, readying another arrow in case he attacked. “They’d know what species it is.”

“Assuming the Ozma doesn’t know, we can send a message,” Date replied. The demi-demon may have come into contact with them during their long life.

“Hey, guys.” Imogen drew their attention. “I think we’ll need help getting her out of here.”

The woman stopped crying, but still curled in a ball, unresponsive. Small tremors shook her body. 

“My fuck!” The rapist lunged for the sofa.

Vyxen shot an arrow through its foot, pinning it to the floor. “No,” she said, voice low, eyes narrowed.

“You speak our language,” Date said, moving to block the rapist’s view of the sofa.

“That was more like a Frankenstein impression,” Imogen quipped, pulling a goofy face to lighten the tension.

Date snorted and addressed the rapist. “What are you doing here?”

“Fuck.”  

“Charming.” Date assumed the rapist couldn‘t converse. It knew words for basic needs, chief of which was sex. “We should return to the others. I’ll collect the myriads; the woman can sit sidesaddle.” It didn‘t concern him leaving Vyxen and Imogen with the rapist. They‘d kill him if he tried anything. Date took a step, pausing when the rapist spoke again.

“Ifrit.”

“Ifrit?” Vyxen shot back. She took a step and stopped. “What ifrit? Is one here? Where’s ifrit?” Her tone grew more forceful with each question. She fell silent when Date put his hand on her shoulder.

“He lacks the language to reply,” he said.

“Nyima’s after Ifrit.” There was no doubt in Vyxen’s mind the Ozma summoned Nyima because her enemy arrived in Illthdar. These creatures were its servants and if Ifrit died, they did. “We have reach Ozma and tell her.”

Date raised a feathery eyebrow. “I expect she knows,” he wagered, not adding his additional doubts. Eight moons before contact? She wasn’t in another realm, like Tundra when he left. She was in another country. One that could contact Las, as shown by the Ozma sending a letter. No. His conclusion was they‘d find a body when they reached Ozma. “I’ll go fetch the myriad,” he repeated, not bothering to advise caution. The women weren’t stupid.

~*~*~

“It’s interesting, but not useful,” Seth decided, as the injured dzoavits passed out again.

The dzoavits spoke of prejudice and hate. Common behaviour towards demons. Exiled from their home, they found shelter where they could. When their King returned, he mounted a campaign to take back their home. Then he went missing. Dzoavits couldn‘t function without a ruler. When another species recruited them they went without argument.

“Just more Illthdar grossness,” Zercey said, throwing her hands up in disgust. “When you think you’ve reached the bottom of the mucky barrel…”

“It’s never ending.” Seth chuckled without humour.

“I-I don’t think Ozma is as bad as he said.” Jack defended his people. “Before they showed up and ruined things, there wasn’t racism. People like me get menial jobs, but it’s better than starving.”

“The Ozma made you an escort for breaking a plate,” Tundra reminded in a flat tone. He didn’t bother adding Jack’s statement was the definition of prejudice.

“At least she sent someone,” Jack replied, shrugging slender shoulders. “I remember when the barrier first went up, people huddled outside and she wouldn’t lower it.”

“Lower it?” Zercey’s ears pricked up at this. “Gehail has to lower the whole barrier to let people in and out?”

Jack gave her a bland stare. “It’s a barrier. How else would they go through it?”

“I figured it’s made of ice.” Seth remembered the rumour Date spouted one time.

“Ice _magic,”_ Jack corrected. “It’s impenetrable. Gehail doesn’t assign regular platoons in case the enemy pick up on the pattern, but the last few months she’s been lowering it for soldiers.”

“The last few months,” Zercey murmured, looking to Seth with raised eyebrows.

He nodded, thinking the same thing.

Tundra frowned. “It must take plenty of mana to control a city wide barrier.”

“The Great Protector lends Gehail power, and the blood descendants of ice elementals help, too,” Jack said. “It parcels out the cost.”

“’The Great Protector’?” Zercey echoed, lilac eyes flicking from Seth to Tundra. The timing wasn’t right, but it still bore asking. “Are you talking about a blue-skinned woman who arrived a few months ago?”

“Which blue-skinned woman would that be?” Jack returned, chuckling.

“There’s more than one?” Seth checked his friends’ reactions — surprised as he. “Er, we were kind of under the impression ours was one of a kind.”

“There’s plenty of blue-skinned people in Ozma. They’re ice elementals.” Jack’s expression was a gaping smile—though he couldn‘t help it since it was his default.

“But you said Gehail’s been sending out more soldiers the last few months,” Zercey repeated.

“Yes. Her new lover is pretty persuasive.”

“Can’t be Nyima,” Tundra dismissed, an uneasy knot in his chest. He knew his girlfriend would cheat on him, but Aetumuh rules made little sense. 

“They’re ice elementals,” Zercey reminded, reading his mind. “It’d be odd if they couldn’t stand her temperature when you can and you’re not the same species.”

“Are you not an elemental?” Jack leaned forward, trying to examine Tundra.

“I’m from another realm,” he replied, tone cool. “It’s not important.” He turned back to Zercey. “Nyima wouldn’t have sex with someone else anyway. It’s not her. ” He was insistent on it as a fact.

She held her hands up and over-emphasised her shrug, eyes wide. “Okay.”

“Dude, you need to chill,” Seth said, placing his hand on the flank of Tundra’s myriad. “You’re freaking out your teammates.”

One side of Tundra’s face pulled up in a grimace, but he voiced no further disagreement. “What do we think about the others?”

“Rapists and pillagers,” Seth spat. The dzoavits explained they acted as handlers to the bigger demons — rabid beasts whose one goal was fucking women.

No one disagreed with the assessment.

“Is it wrong I feel sorry for him?” Pity wreathed Zercey‘s face.

“He’s no mastermind, that’s for sure,” Seth replied, frowning down at the unconscious dzoavits. “From what he said they’re coerced into helping.”

“Jack, anything?” Tundra wasn‘t hopeful. Jack’s intel was sketchy and based on guesswork.

“There’s an army near the barrier,” he replied. “They all wear armour, so I can‘t rightly say if there’s more than one race. Some of the invaders are vicious.”

“Someone came up with a uniform look,” Tundra surmised. “That suggests a leader.” He stood up on his stirrups as he spied movement near the edge of the forest. Date waved, then retreated. “The others are okay,” he said.

“That’s a relief,” Zercey said, shoulders sagging as tension leeched away.

“How big is this enemy army?” Seth returned to the original topic.

“I just work in the kitchen,” Jack replied. “After they attacked our city all the survivors fled to Ozma. It was — ” he broke off and drew in a deep breath. “There’s a lot,” he said murmured.

“We’ll assume Ozma‘s cut their numbers over a decade,” Tundra said, drawing on his own experiences from Oto. “The problem is that mean the strongest remain.”

“That could explain why they called Nyima,” Zercey said, unsatisfied with the previous explanation. “And why she didn’t contact anyone.”

“Too busy to send a letter from behind her ice wall?” Tundra’s quip had a hard edge. “Sounds like her.”

“More like she didn’t want to get her friends killed,” Zercey snapped, annoyed at the male pessimism.

Seth winced and shook his head. “You know I’m here if you wanna talk.”

“About?” Tundra’s eyebrow rose.

“Okay,” he replied, running a hand over his short, orange hair. “What are we gonna do about this guy?” He nodded towards the dzoavits.

“Jack, does Gehail take prisoners?” Zercey moved to check him.

“I don’t know,” Jack replied, shrugging. “I – ”

“ – ‘just work in the kitchen’,” Tundra repeated the stock phrase before he could. “We know.” He shook his head. “It would’ve been useful if Ozma sent an emissary who could answer our questions.”

Jack’s orange face grew pale. “I’m sorry.” He ducked in the saddle.

“It’s okay, Jack.” Zercey gave his bony a knee a sympathetic pat. “Ignore ice boy,” she added, glaring at Tundra. “We’ll get answers when we reach Ozma.”

“Yeah, right.” Tundra returned his gaze to the treeline, waiting for the rest of their team to appear.

“What should we do with him?” Zercey returned the question to Seth. “We can’t leave him here.”

Seth returned to the cart and tested its structure. “The base looks ok and so do these two wheels.” He gestured to the far side. “We could rig a wheelbarrow and harness it to a couple of myriad.”

“It must be the ones Tundra and Jack are riding,” Zercey replied. “The others already carry two people. It wouldn’t be fair to make them pull more weight.”

“That will slow our journey,” Jack pointed out, shifting anxiously. “We’ll already arrive well after dark tomorrow, if not the morning after at our current pace.”

Seth grimaced. “Camping.” He drew in a deep breath. “Okay. It’s a risk we must take. It wouldn’t be right to leave this guy lying in the middle of nowhere, even if he’s an enemy. The Ozma might want to question him, too,” he added, when Jack tried to disagree. 

“Are you sure about that plan?” Tundra called, knowing full well his friend’s reaction to sleeping outdoors.

“I’ll have to be.” Seth’s smile was tight and unconvincing.

“Is there a safe spot to set up camp, Jack?” Zercey questioned. They couldn‘t sleep in the open and risk attack.

Jack looked around. “There’s a small village; east,” he said at last. “They were on the outskirts of Brightkeep, a few miles further up the road. If your friends get back soon, we might make it there before dark.”

“Sounds like a plan. Zercey, switch places with Jingyi. I need him to help me take this cart apart.” Seth rubbed his hands together, relishing doing something besides talking.

“Sure, Seth, I’ll be glad to help, thanks for asking,” Tundra replied, tone dry.

“Man, if it gets you to quit with the negative attitude then it was worth it,” Seth shot back, shaking his head.

“Negative? Me?” Tundra smirked with amusement. “I think you’re confusing me with Date.”

“It’s cute how wrong you are,” Zercey quipped, swinging herself up into the extra-padded seat of Tundra’s mount. “You’re still wrong, though.”

He snorted and went to work, knocking wooden pegs holding the wheels to the axel. They unhitched undamaged parts of the cart from the burnt sections and fashioned a crude gurney for the dzoavits to lie on.

~*~*~

Vyxen had a relaxed grip on her bow, alert and ready for the injured rapist to try something. He’d quietened after losing his hand, but she didn’t buy the act for a second. “I’ll kill you,” she promised in a dark tone. Ugly didn‘t mean danger; beauty didn‘t mean safety. She wouldn’t forget the lesson. An animal growled nearby and her silver eyes flicked to the doorway. “Deep breath,” she counselled. “How’s she doing?” she called to Imogen without looking.

Imogen shrugged and shook her head. “Stopped trembling,” she replied in a low and soothing voice, mindful not to startle the poor woman. “Hey, that thing won’t hurt you again. We’re here to help.” The woman mumbled something Imogen didn‘t catch. “Say again?” She leant closer.

“T-they don’t stop.”

Green eyes widening with alarm, Imogen’s head jerked up. “Vyxen!”

Having taken her eyes off the rapist, Vyxen jumped with surprise as he surged to his feet, looming over her. 

“My fuck!” He grabbed her wrist and twisted, lifting her off the ground. 

“No!” She drew her knife and plunged the blade into his forearm. The rapist bellowed. She dropped to the ground and darted behind the sofa. “This place sucks! Imo – ”

Through the open front door bounded a giant silver cat. It growled, bared its teeth and spun around, smacking the rapist with a massive ball attached to its tail. The rapist slammed into the wall and hit his head with a sick thud.

“Out of the way, cat!” Imogen strung an arrow onto her bow. She had a perfect target, if the companion moved.

“Good kitty, come here,” Vyxen cooed in an unsteady voice.

The cat sauntered over to Vyxen and butted her with its head.

The rapist pushed away from the wall and wound up impaled by an arrow shot from Imogen‘s bow.

Vyxen forced herself to stop shaking and relax her death-grip on her father’s knife. She narrowed her eyes. “Fetch, kitty.”

The cat leapt, snatching the arrow. Dark-blue blood splattered across the floor. The cat deposited the shaft at Vyxen’s feet and did a single circuit around her legs before sitting and washing its face.

The rapist clutched his neck with a single hand. He’d already lost blood with the other severed. The steady flow that ran down his neck and soaked his armour wouldn’t stop. He dropped to his knees, swayed and fell to the side. He curled into a ball, arm over his head, echoing the pose of his latest victim. A shuddering breath and he died.

“Okay.” Imogen sat on the sofa. “Okay.” She wasn’t often at a loss for words, but this trip brought it out. “Where did that come from?” She nodded at the cat. “What’s on its tail?”

“I think it _is_ her tail,” Vyxen replied, stroking the glossy coat. There was a large burn scar marring its flank. She figured the cat fought invaders and wanted revenge.  _“Miigwech,”_ she said, smiling. “You’re so pretty.”

The cat purred, tipping its head to the side in agreement. She padded to the woman on the sofa and nudged her hand.

“Sp-spherix?” She met the cat’s golden eyes with waterlogged blue ones. Her skin was glacial pale: an elemental. “I—” Her full lips trembled. She sobbed again.

“It’s okay. It’s dead.” Imogen touched her shoulder. “We’re sure this time.”

“Y-yes,” the woman replied, inching to a sitting position, while remaining as small as possible. “You saved me.”

“Where are you from?” Vyxen crouched beside the cat and put her hand on its back, looking unthreatening as possible.

“O-Ozma.” The woman sniffed and gulped back more tears. “I had an escort to the temple, but someone attacked—” 

Imogen and Vyxen nodded, guessing the woman’s guards died defending her.

“I found R-rose and went for help. T-that girl—” she broke off crying.

“The woman from the tavern gave you to the dzoavits,” Vyxen finished in an empty voice. It was a familiar story. “We’ll get you back to Ozma. We’re seeing Gehail.”

The woman’s head jerked up. “You’re from Las.”

“Yes,” Imogen replied, slanting a glance at Vyxen. Was she a courtier? “You work for the Queen? What’s your name?”

“Melanthe. I’m one of her ladies.”

“Do you know Nyima?” Vyxen brightened with hope. Even after Date read the scroll Nyima left she held the belief Nyima was prisoner prevented from contact. They’d go to Ozma and free her. Nothing could change her mind.

“Which Nyima?” The woman was listless and dead-eyed. “It’s a common name.”

“She’d be under the Queen,” Imogen said.

“Her lover is Kyru.”

“Not a lover.” Vyxen shook her head. “A protector.”

Melanthe twitched, then shrugged like she‘d intended the action. “Gehail has many bodyguards and protectors. I don’t know everyone.”

It didn‘t ring true, but Melanthe suffered abuse and shock. They could ask again later.

“That’s okay,” Vyxen replied, trying to hide her disappointment. Had Nyima made it to Ozma? Beside her, the spherix growled and Vyxen turned to the door. “Hi, Toshi!”

“What happened?” He entered the cottage and pointed at the dead body.

Melanthe squeaked and hunched over.

“It’s okay.” Vyxen placed her hand on Melanthe’s shoulder. “He’s just a grumpy birb.”

Date snorted, but understood Vyxen‘s intent. “I have the myriad. Is the lady able to move?” He took a step forward and paused when the anima growled. “What is that?”

“Zeniba,” Vyxen replied in a decisive voice. “She’s my road trip baby.”

Date rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Fine. Let’s return to the others before it’s too dark to see.”

 

The group exited the trees and spotted everyone where they left them.

“Hey!” Imogen waved and gave them a thumbs up. “What have they done?” She spotted the gurney attached to two horses. “Someone will have to fly with Toshi,” she concluded, finding the numbers didn’t add up.

Vyxen shifted behind her. She knew she’d be safe with Toshiiro; he was a perfect gentleman. It was getting that information to stick in her subconscious and stop her from tensing that troubled her. She’d gotten away with it when he’d thrown himself up behind her on the horse earlier, but being held in his arms? Flying? Where she couldn’t get away?

Zeniba knocked into her leg and mewled.

“I’m okay,” she repeated, slapping a mental band-aid over her emotional pain. Toshi wouldn’t force her to fly with him, so there was nothing to worry about. She had a choice, and he’d respect that.

“Whose bright idea was this?” Date called as he landed in front of the gurney. “Why are we taking _that_ with us?” He pointed at the sleeping dzoavits.

“Because Gehail might want to interrogate him, and it’s needlessly cruel to leave an injured man to die,” Zercey said, her tone daring him to argue.

“Have you lost your mind?! He’s the enemy!” 

“We’re better than them,” she said through gritted teeth. “We take prisoners.”

“She obviously convinced the rest of you; who else would have constructed this flatbed?” He turned on his other friends.

“Seth did it.” Tundra threw him under the bus, smirking.

“You helped,” he replied in an amused voice. “And it’s your fault we needed it in the first place.”

“You’re saying breaking his spine was bad?” He could have done worse, but he placed the dzoavits as a moderate threat. Incapacitating and questioning him was the result. If everyone else could stop acting like he’d gone crazy and done something stupid. He wasn’t angry. He was in complete control. He had questions that needed answers and, okay, maybe a few strong words needed spoken between him and his lover, but he wasn’t taking things out on people who he wouldn’t attack, anyway.

Caught up in introspection, Tundra missed introductions and arrangements for who would ride what with whom and found himself alone on the myriad pulling the cart. Beside him was Jack, and the others brought up the rear. “Where are we heading?”

“We take the left fork past the ruins to the temple. We can’t get inside, but some buildings are in okay condition, according to Melanthe,” Jack said, tipping his head to indicate the tall, slender woman riding with Imogen.

Tundra swept his eye over her and nodded once. “Okay, so camping.” He raised his voice so Seth could hear. “You good?”

“He’s up there.” Zercey pointed skywards.

“Huh?” Tundra looked up and snorted at the dark speck clinging to a winged one. “How did I miss that?”

“They’re gonna scope out the rest spot and we’ll meet them there,” Zercey revealed the result of the conversation Tundra missed.

He fell silent, having nothing more to say.

The others chatted as they travelled towards the temple before night fell, hoping their second night in Ozma would be as uneventful as the day was its opposite.

 

 


	5. An Interesting Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team make it to a safe house, though how safe it is and how much of a house remains to be seen.

Not only was Seth being subjected to his worst nightmare of camping, but he’d also drawn the short straw and had to travel with Date after Vyxen’s polite refusal.

“Urk!” He gulped bile as Date swept them higher. “Cut it the fuck out or I’ll puke on you!”

Date sniggered. “I must follow the air current,” he replied. “We’re almost there.” He pointed to the ground where a cluster of buildings stood. Behind it lay a shimmering orb, much like the barrier around Ozma, only this was gold. Inside, a temple, untouched by war‘s ravaging.

“You think I’m opening my eyes before we’re on the ground you don’t know me,” Seth replied through gritted teeth.

Date withheld comment and scanned the landscape. They would sweep the area and confirm the absence of the group who attacked Melanthe. Then they needed to wait for the others. This put them on the unenviable duty of setting up camp, though how they would do so when the others had their supplies was something no one voiced before the pair departed. “Someone’s home.” He spied a curl of smoke rising from a chimney. The house stood close to the barrier and didn‘t look as damaged as other buildings. “If it’s habitable, we won’t have to camp outside,” he said to draw Seth’s attention.

Amber eyes squinting open and a small noise of complaint slipping past his lips, Seth focused his gaze. “Okay, so we bust in and give them a good ol’ Acolytes of Las hello,” he said, curling his fingers around his axe. His grip slick from anxious sweat it took an adjustment before he was satisfied. “Are we dropping in?”

“I thought you didn’t want to camp outside?” Date returned, dismissing the idea. Apart from the risk of injury—despite half-blood constitution making them almost invulnerable as he saw it—there was the possibility of Seth literally bringing the house down.

“You’re no fun anymore.” Seth loved flashy entrances. There was nothing more show-off to a bunch of fae than someone falling on them, getting up and kicking their asses.

“We’ll land and enter via the servants’ door,” Date decided, making a final pass.

“Boring and sneaky it is,” Seth joked. He dropped like a stone when Date released him a few feet from the ground, landing and rolling, then springing to his feet and charging the door of the slate-roofed lodge.

“Seth, slow down!” Date’s words fell on deaf ears and he grumbled as the door collapsed and Seth kept going. “How is that sneaky?” he complained as he touched down. Drawing his sword, he followed at a brisk pace.

 

~*~*~

 

“Did that look like an abrupt landing?” Imogen pointed to where their friends disappeared. “Smoke. Looks like they have company.”

“We can’t go faster,” Tundra replied. “Unless we’ve changed our minds about bringing this guy?” He jerked his thumb at the dzoavits, still unconscious.

“No, we have not changed our minds,” Zercey countered, gesturing for emphasis. “I told you, we’re better than them.”

Tundra lifted a doubtful eyebrow. “Who decided this and where was I during the vote?” he joked.

“Oto.”

He winced and noticed Jack mimic in sympathy, though he didn‘t understand the reference.

“Shots fired,” Imogen quipped, shaking her head.

“Not in the face, I hope.” Tundra replied, wit dry.

“ _Ouch!_ _Guys!”_ Vyxen’s gaze went from her friends to Jack and Melanthe. “Can we pretend we like each other?” She didn’t know why, but since they boarded the boat to Ozma tensions were high. She knew seeing Nyima would raise unresolved issues from when she left, but Vyxen never considered the boys were angry, too. Toshi’s acidic barbs grew annoying after a while, but they’d ground to a halt when his attention shifted to Vyxen’s troubles. She’d thought he was angry on her behalf because she wasn’t, but now she thought about it, she could hear the hurt in his voice. As for Tundra... He said he was fine, but who knew the truth beneath that calm facade? He acted like he didn’t care, but his quips and jokes came with a hard edge. Lerki and Seth expressed surprise, but invalidated their feelings by assuming Nyima’s mission came with top secret info she couldn‘t share.

Vyxen held tight onto hope like she‘d die if doubt crept in. She didn’t want to believe things Zercey revealed about Scyanatha and Inari while in Midraert. She didn’t want to believe Nyima wasn’t genuine. She didn‘t want to believe the sun cast shadows, despite knowing the truth.

“Hey, we like each other just fine,” Imogen said, grinning at Tundra when he turned to look at them. “You know Acolytes: work hard, play hard.”

“Insult hard,” Vyxen snickered. She twisted to address Melanthe. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she murmured, eyes flicking to the trio of men ahead. “I don’t understand why you’re bringing _that_.”

“The dzoavits?” Zercey countered. “We injured him, so it‘s our responsibility to treat him.”

“‘We’ injured him?” Tundra called.

Zercey rolled her eyes. “The great and mighty, stunningly fantastic and most awesome cryomancer injured him. Happy?”

“That’ll do,” he replied, chuckling.

“Dork,” she muttered, resulting in giggles from the other women. “We’re taking the dzoavits to Ozma for questioning,” she said in answer to Melanthe.

“Oh. I don’t think Her Majesty would like that.” Her fine brows drew together.

“I agree,” Jack said, hollow-sounding voice making Melanthe jump.

“Your servant speaks without permission?”

“Jack? He’s a mangaboo who works in the palace,” Vyxen replied. “Gehail sent him as our escort.”

“ _That is your escort?”_ Melanthe muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

Zercey made several subtle gestures at Imogen, then mouthed, “What’s she saying?”

Imogen nodded, mouthing back, “I’ll tell you later.”

Both Zercey and Vyxen smiled.

“Heads up. We’re here.” Tundra and Jack led the myriad through a half-destroyed gateway avoiding large stones blocking the path, until it jarred the cart wheels. “I don’t think we can get this uphill.”

The building lay near the top of the rise and to the left of the golden barrier.

“We should leave him here,” Jack voiced. “If bandits come, they’ll attack anyone guarding him.”

“There’s smoke coming from the lodge, so it could be dangerous to split up,” Zercey agreed. “We don’t know how many enemy are nearby.”

“Okay, we leave him here and—” Vyxen paused and looked at Melanthe. “What about her? We can’t leave her or bring her with.”

Melanthe paled. “N-no—I – ”

“Imo, Vyxen and Jack, stay with her. Zercey, come with me.” Tundra took charge, already dismounting and rolling his shoulders to loosen his muscles. “Keep up,” he added, waiting long enough for her to grab her spear before sprinting up the road.

Zercey waved and took off, withholding a snappy comeback.

“They’ll be okay,” Vyxen said with confidence. “Toshi and Seth are there already, so they’re just playing back up.” She tweaked Zeniba’s ear and mooed at the bailukee, partly to comfort them and herself.

“You’re good with animals,” Melanthe said in a timid and awe filled voice. “I have never seen anyone tame a spherix with such ease, and what is this?” She half-reached for Temia, whose nose wrinkled when she sniffed the outstretched digits.

“Are spherix a type of companion?” Vyxen questioned, brows pinching when the bailukee snorted and hid behind her right shoulder.

“Yes. There are many in Ozma.”

“Ozma the country or Ozma the city?” Imogen joined the conversation, suspecting Melanthe held something back.

Melanthe’s eyelashes fluttered, appearing evasive. “I wonder why Her Majesty sent that to collect you. A guard accompanied me.”

“‘ _That’_ has a name.” With one word Melanthe reminded Vyxen why pretty faeries were as vile as ugly ones. “Jack. He’s called Jack.”

“Guess you lived in the city before the barrier went up,” Imogen surmised.

“Yes.” Melanthe ignored Vyxen to talk to Imogen. “My family lives near the palace. We can trace our bloodline to the first settlers.”

“Can you do magic?” Vyxen noticed the non-answer about the spherix and grew suspicious. Zeniba had old injuries, which Vyxen assume were from engaging enemy troops. _What if Ozma uses spherix to fight?_  Trained companions fought alongside their owners, but with the Ozma’s reluctance to lower the barrier...  _Is she sending companions to fight?_

Melanthe fluttered her fingers and a plume of icy air formed in her palm. “It‘s easier in Ozma. The Great Protector makes us stronger.”

“You reinforce the barrier,” Imogen said. “We heard elementals are meant to stay inside.”

“Y-yes,” Melanthe replied, fiddling with her hair, brushing strands with ice.

Vyxen and Imogen wore matching expressions. The silence lengthened. 

Melanthe fidgeted. Eyes darted with nervous energy. She opened her mouth.

“Rightly, that’s what the Ozma said,” Jack said, ruining their interrogation.

“Yes, it’s Her Majesty’s order.” Melanthe leapt on the information.

Vyxen rolled her eyes. “ _Right.”_ Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. “Why did she send you if she needs all elementals to stay?”

Melanthe looked uncomfortable again, fussing with a scrap of mulberry coloured fabric hanging from her gown. “She sent me to collect flowers from the temple. The pure can enter.”

“Why?” Vyxen settled on the edge of the cart, mindful of disturbing the dzoavits. She wanted to worry for him, he remained unconscious the entire time, but knowing what she did, she couldn’t muster more than the smallest amount. Bringing him to Ozma was more than he deserved. _Tundra wondered why we brought him. Would I vote with him?_  The self she was before wouldn’t. The self she was now...

“The barrier belongs to the Heavenly Blessing and allows passage to those who are pure.” Melanthe's answer shook Vyxen from her dark thoughts.

“What’s the Heavenly Blessing?” Imogen looked between Melanthe and Jack, who was busy giving water to the myriad and trying to remain inconspicuous. “While we’re on it, what’s the Great Protector?”

“They—” Melanthe paused, eyes widening. She pointed to the hilltop. “Your friends...”

Imogen, Vyxen and Jack turned. 

“The sky’s on fire,” Jack said, hollow-sounding voice making the statement more horrifying.

Dark grey clouds tinged with a red underbelly showered glowing red orbs. They hit rooftops and bounced off.

“We should check it out,” Imogen decided. Seth summoning a localised storm wasn’t good, in her experience. “I doubt anyone’s coming this way. Just in case, Jack, move the myriad to that stable.” She pointed to a burned structure. “You and Melanthe hide inside.”

Blue eyes widening with alarm, Melanthe squeaked.

“Don’t give me that,” Imogen said, stalling her. “The only time you acknowledged him was when he ‘spoke without permission’. You refuse to call him by name. If you were even slightly afraid, I wouldn’t expect you to stay, but he’s nothing to you.” Disgust coloured her tone, daring Melanthe to argue. She didn’t.

Melanthe shuffled past and followed Jack, guiding the myriads into the stable.

“Go, Imo,” Vyxen cheered when they were out of sight. “Do you think everyone in Gehail’s court is like her?”

“She said she’s new, so I don’t know. I hope not.” She grabbed her bow and secured her arrows in a quiver strapped around her waist. “Let’s go before Seth burns down our camp.”

“I hear that,” Vyxen snickered, adjusting her own bow and quiver of arrows. “Squishy, stay. Zeniba, you come with.”

The bailukee mooed with annoyance as the cat stalked past with a smug gait.

“Sorry, baby, but you’re not a fighter,” she cooed in a soft voice. “You could get hurt.”

Squishy floated up past the rooftops and landed on the nearest one, mooing loudly and giving its back.

Both Vyxen and Imogen giggled at the obvious sulk and took off, jogging up the hill with the spherix keeping pace beside them.

 

~*~*~

  
Having made it to the lodge without incident, Vyxen and Imogen crept along the hallway, until they heard raised voices, having voted on leaving Zeniba outside as a guard.

Shoving a heavy door open, Imogen vaulted into the room with an arrow strung before anyone could blink.

“Is this what you do to people?!” a loud and obnoxious-sounding man said, glaring at Seth. “You pretend to make nice and then attack us! Some Acolytes you are!”

There were four strangers in the room with Seth, Date, Tundra and Zercey. No one appeared harmed, and the men weren’t dzoavits or ifrit.

“What’s happening?” Vyxen edged into the room, prepared to defend her friends.

“Calm down, we were just about to send for you,” Seth said, chuckling and shaking his head. “These guys survived outside Ozma.”

Vyxen and Imogen lowered their weapons.

“Why the shouting?” Imogen looked at Zercey. 

She rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip. “These guys,” she gestured at the four scruffy individuals, “bet Seth that he couldn’t summon a surprising storm.”

“It’s Ozma,” one argued. We’ve a river of milk and cheese and rainbow coloured fields.”

“Had,” another added with a sad sniff.

The small, elderly men looked like dwarves with long, greying beards, large noses, small and dark-coloured eyes and squat bodies, with club-like hands and feet. Each wore a suffering expression that spoke of a harsh life, and their sour dispositions matched their weathered appearance.

“You guys have a river of milk and cheese?” Vyxen’s eyes were like saucers.

“ _Had,”_ the dwarf replied, glowering. “Those giants burnt everything beautiful.”

“’cept the temples,” another countered. “They hate these places still stand.”

“Okay, why were you arguing when we came in?” Imogen realised they hadn’t given her an answer and wanted to make sure things wouldn’t become heated between the two groups again.

“The big fella cheated! He didn’t say he could rain food!”

The boys chuckled, overlaid with Zercey‘s giggle.

“He made it rain jelly beans,” she revealed. “Red ones.”

“They‘re my favourite,” Seth said, opening his hand and revealing his sticky haul. “Most disappeared, but these didn’t.” He tossed them into his mouth and grinned. “Huh? Where’d they go?”

“You’re so cute!” Vyxen giggled, squeezing his arm. “Okay, we’re good?” The dwarves nodded one by one. She didn’t need to check her friends to know they were, too. “Someone needs to get Jack and Melanthe. They’re hiding in the stable near the gate.”

“I’ll go,” Zercey offered. “Melanthe will be happier with a woman. What about the dzoavits?”

“ _You have a dzoavits with you?!”_ The dwarves yelled in unison, drawing daggers from their sheaths. 

The one who accused Seth of cheating shouted, “I knew we couldn’t trust them! They’re not Acolytes, they’re with the burning men!”

“No, we’re not!” the girls chimed in unison.

“We took one prisoner!” Date yelled. “They attacked us on the road and we subdued him. He’s injured and no threat.”

“Why you bringing him?!” one asked, furious. “They destroyed Ozma!”

“For Gehail to question,” Date replied, though from the men's reaction this was doubtful. It would have been kinder to leave the dzoavits and let the elements take him, than bring him along.

The dwarves chuckled an evil tenor.

“Doubt it,” one said. “Public execution is more her style.”

Zercey’s brows pinched. She didn’t agree with that one bit. Seth’s expression mirrored hers. “Seth, help me bring the cart up?”

He no“Acolytes?” Date suggested. He spotted broken, religious icons about the house when he and Seth made their initial entry.

“Dunno,” a dwarf replied, when Vyxen turned a questioning gaze on them.

“Do they know anything?” Tundra muttered, half-amused.

“Yes,” Date answered. “Nothing useful to us.”

“Hey,” Imogen addressed the dwarves. “What’s the Heavenly Blessing and Great Protector?”

“Yeah!” Vyxen’s enthusiasm leapt from her voice. “They sound like something from a cheesy cartoon.” She snickered at their blank looks.

“Ozma magic.” The response didn’t make things clearer.

“They’re spells?” Date suggested. The tengu of Mount Takao hadn’t much call to learn magic. His father considered it handiwork of low-born. Though he was Illthdarian, he was as much in the dark as his half-blood comrades on certain subjects.

“Powerful spells elementals brought with them during their great exodus!” He further explained the elementals of Ozma arrived during a time races escaped persecution on Earth.

“Honey, we’re home!” Seth announced with typical, brash charm. The door hurtled into the wall hard enough to tear it from its hinges. “My bad.” He shrugged and threw knapsacks to people. An overjoyed Temia followed, circling Vyxen‘s head and landing on Tundra. Drool trailed from her mouth and slopped over his hand.

“Guess it’s metelaf,” he said in a dry voice, noting the spherix padding in and butting Vyxen’s leg for attention. “See?” he said to the mooing creature. “That’s how you greet people. No drooling.”

“Unless it’s on someone else,” Zercey added, entering with Melanthe and Jack. “We don’t have to worry about the dzoavits anymore,” she announced, giving Tundra a look. “He’s dead.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back. “His injury wasn‘t that bad.”

“You must have ruptured something when you snapped his spine like a twig,” Zercey argued.

“No.” Tundra shook his head. “I’ve done that move—” He paused, expression assessing. He appeared to give up, shrugged and said, “A lot. Okay. I’ve done that move a lot and the only time someone dies is if I want them to.”

“Maybe he wasn’t as strong as we thought?” Seth played devil’s advocate.

“I hate to butt in,” Jack ventured, “but as he’s dead, it doesn’t rightly matter.”

“There’s that,” Tundra agreed, letting the matter drop. “Did you leave the body at the stables?” A quick once over after everyone went to sleep couldn’t hurt, not that he doubted his skill.

“Why would we bring it with?” Zercey replied, crouching down by a pack and pulling out rations and cooking utensils.

“Is there another room for ladies?” Melanthe’s voice was small, but her question stopped the chatter.

Being familiar with Ona’s unease around men, the girls rallied and found a small anteroom still habitable. There was a chaise, broken chairs and a smashed coffee table, suggesting it was a room for relaxing.

Imogen found some musty-smelling blankets inside a cupboard to make a bed with. “Good thing there’s so few of us,” she joked, noting the size of the room, and then felt bad when Vyxen’s brows pinched. “We’re only a few days from Ozma, and you’ve got a new pet.”

Vyxen smiled and nodded, trying to recover her usual cheer. “Yeah, and we’ll see Nyima.”

 

The girls returned to the main room, leaving Zeniba guarding Melanthe, who claimed exhaustion for isolating herself.

“Hey, uhh...” Vyxen frowned, realising they hadn‘t introduced themselves.

“Gyllie, Reid, Topol, Loore,” said one, pointing in turn. “We’re penates.”

“A branch of dwellers,” Date explained. “Cousins to borrowers, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I’m Vyxen and that’s Toshi, Tundra, Seth, Zercey, Imogen, Jack and the woman in the other room with Zeniba is Melanthe.”

“What’s that?” Gyllie pointed at Temia.

“A bailukee,” Tundra supplied. “Don‘t they live here? They like the cold.”

“Never seen one. You selling it?” Topol’s expression grew calculating.

“No.” Nyima would kill him if he sold Temia, despite claiming she didn’t want it.

“She belongs to our friend, Nyima,” Zercey said, pouring soup into a mismatched collection of bowls she found in the ruined kitchen. “I don‘t suppose you know her?”

“We don’t know shit happening inside the city,” Reid replied, shrugging hunched shoulders. He scratched his chin, disrupting the lay of his beard, then scratched harder at a new itch site.

“What do you know about the war?” Seth took a bowl from Zercey with thanks and dug in. While she was adamant Tundra’s excessive force killed the dzoavits, he thought different. Tundra was an assassin before becoming an Acolyte. He fought with surgical precision. Seth had other suspicions. Since they picked up Melanthe, Jack stopped chattering as much. He’d have to wait until everyone went to bed before they could talk.

“Bunch of demons burnt the forest and camp near the barrier,” Loore said. “Some are real focused; they only want the city. Others go everywhere making a mess. They kill men and children; rape women.”

“I’ve never seen them kill a woman,” Gyllie added, bushy brows drawing together. “I think they take them prisoner.”

This confirmed the information they‘d heard elsewhere.

“Gehail?” Seth hadn’t heard one decent thing yet. The inevitable negative followed the positive.

“She’s protecting people using the barrier. Sends out patrols, but I don’t think they’re strong enough to handle the big demons.” Topol finished slurping up his soup and smacked his lips. “Thanks.”

“ _Prego,”_  Zercey replied, calling on her Italian roots. “Why are you guys are here?” She was curious how people survived surrounded by a violent, enemy force.

“We’re good at hiding,” Gyllie’s evasive tone matched his expression.

“Yes, you are all so inconspicuous,” Date said, sarcastic

“I meant,” Zercey began, shooting him a look, “why don‘t you go to the city where it‘s safe?”

“’cause we’re not second-class citizens,” Loore muttered with a bitter twist of the lips. 

Seth’s amber eyes slid to Jack. “You could go to Las. Dwarves get a warmer reception there.”

“Ozma’s our home,” Reid replied, jerking his chin up. “Would you leave your home if you had a choice?”

The half-bloods among the group remained silent.

“It’s late,” Date voiced, breaking the silence. “We’ll leave early. I gather none of you wish to accompany us.”

The dwarves shook their heads, murmuring denials.

“As I thought.” He gathered everyone’s empty bowls and carried them to the scullery, leaving them in a cracked, ceramic sink half-filled with rainwater from a roof pump. He was certain the dwarves lied about their survival tactics, but he had no reason to press the issue; some deserved their secrets.

 

~*~*~

 

“Imo. _Psst,_ _Imo!”_ Vyxen hissed as loud as she dared.

The group retired, with the women in the small anteroom with Melanthe. The men remained in the main living space with the dwarves. The bailukee eschewed Vyxen‘s company and stayed with Tundra. Both noted the change in preference and found it odd for different reasons.

“What’s up?” Imogen rolled over from her spot facing the wall and blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark.

Vyxen rested on an elbow. “What did Melanthe tell you?”

“Oh, that.“ She looked at the sleeping woman. “Right. Don‘t you wanna wait till we‘re alone?”

“When will we have a chance?” Zercey said, having woken the same time as Imogen.

“Good point.” Imogen scrubbed her hands over her face and slapped her cheeks. “I didn’t hear everything, but she wasn’t happy to hear Gehail sent a servant to get us.”

“She was upset on our behalf?” Zercey didn‘t buy it.

“Don’t think so. More like mad Gehail sent her, too.”

Vyxen rolled her eyes. “Guess she thought being an elemental-whatever would made her safe.”

“Gehail kicks people out as punishment,” Zercey said, thoughtful. “Jack broke a plate and became our escort. I wonder what Melanthe did.”

“What about the patrols?” Their information didn‘t fit the pattern. “Do you think Gehail punishes soldiers by sending them out?”

“Topol said they were weak.”

“Remember, Jack said a soldier convinced Gehail to up patrols,” Imogen countered. “If she‘s sadistic, she could have plenty of reasons for doing it.”

“Gehail looks strong on the outside, but the inner court knows better. If it’s a punishment, Nyima would hate knowing she can‘t stop it.“ Zercey drew a slow breath. 

Much of Nyima’s self-worth came from helping the weak. If the Ozma sabotaged her efforts it would hurt.

“That Aetumuh thing, would she always have to obey?” Vyxen’s whisper had a tinge of desperation. She didn‘t want to believe someone could stop the unstoppable Nyima. Her ideal of Scyanatha lay shattered, but Nyima wouldn’t stand by and watch people suffer. She chewed her lower lip until it bled, then smeared red streaks across her cheek as she wiped her mouth.

“If she told us how it worked we could speculate,“ Zercey said, putting her scientific thinking cap on. 

“Nyima left after she got a letter from Gehail,” Imogen reminded them.

“You’re saying the moment the cissuhan makes contact with the Aetumuh they lose their free will?” Zercey was disbelieving. “She would have gone without returning to the cottage.” She shifted on her bed roll, trying to get comfortable on the hard floor. “No. I think she’s choosing to follow orders. Or maybe she’s so used to obeying she hasn‘t thought about not?”

“She _does_ need our help,” Vyxen concluded, tone coloured by concern. “She wants to stop Gehail hurting people and can’t.”

“Maybe. Whatever’s going on we need to assume Nyima can’t help us.” Zercey didn‘t like considering Nyima as an enemy.

“With Gehail or the enemy?” So far, no one could tell them Nyima‘s role.

“Both.” 

The word fell like a tombstone, killing the conversation. They settled down to sleep, unaware someone overheard them.

 


	6. Filling the Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group continues on the road to Ozma. Questions are bandied about, with few concrete answers. Tempers fray and not only those belonging to the Acolytes.

“I’m waiting.” Date felt Vyxen tense in his arms. Having refused to fly with him the day before, it surprised him to hear her volunteer today. He had her in a secure grip, with one arm hooked under her legs and the other resting in the upper centre of her back. She weighed so little it was no trouble to carry her, and she was better company than Seth despite her silence.

“For?” she replied, evading a direct answer.

“Would you prefer to swap with another?” He didn’t want to pressure her, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed she would waver between wanting his company and shying away. The situation with Curran damaged her and the last thing he wanted was to further darken her bright spirit with unwanted attention. He wanted a sign they were on the same track.

“I’m just being me, you know.” She grinned, but it wasn’t sincere.

“If that were true, you would ask inappropriate questions,” he pointed out. “You don’t have to force normality.”

“I want to be,” she mumbled. “Killing in self-defense is different to ripping someone’s throat out.”

“You refer to the demon. He would have killed all of you.” He hadn’t seen what happened, but trusted Vyxen’s judgement the demon needed to die.

“Yeah, but I’d also have left that dzoavits behind, too.” She chewed on her lip and muttered, “I wouldn’t have done that before.”

Date sighed, realising she’d chosen to travel with him for his opposing views as Toshiiro and Akinori; who he was now, compared to his former self.

“How do you deal with it?” Her voice was so small and lost it broke Date’s heart.

“Compartmentalising,” he replied. “I’m not Akinori, and Toshiiro is a work in progress.”

“Toshi’s a million times better!” Instinct had her arms squeezing his shoulder in a tight and comforting hug, a momentary flicker of the old Vyxen flaring before she grew stiff again. “I’m worse.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on the lapel of his coat.

“Stop it,” he demanded in a cross voice. “You couldn’t be worse. What can I do?” He felt helpless. He wanted to bring the sparkle back to her eyes and cheerful smile to her lips.

Vyxen shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna be angry and hateful. Melanthe’s suffered, but she said something and I couldn’t stop from thinking she deserved bad things happening. No one deserves that!”

“Pain takes time to heal.” He knew better than most. “Sometimes your thoughts and actions will reflect that.”

“Yeah, but the boys stopped you being a jerk.” She heard plenty of stories and seen firsthand how their friends corrected Date’s pompous behaviour when needed. 

“If you’re looking for someone to punch you, you’re out of luck,” he said, faux light-hearted way.

Vyxen giggled, then sobered. “Zercey would’ve called me on it, but Imogen didn’t.”

“Imogen is an enabler,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “If you are searching for a conscience, you won’t find it with her.”

“Hey!” She tweaked his cheek. “That’s my friend.”

“You two together are chaos.” His feathery brows drew together, thoughtful. “Is this why you’re so desperate to see Nyima?”

“I’m not desperate.” That made her sound like a crazy stalker.

“And yet you won’t hear a bad word about her and you beat Jingyi for eagerness to see her.” Things were growing clearer. Before Chiyoko gave them the mission, Vyxen’s mood was low and unlike herself. Understandable after what she’d been through, despite passing time. However, the second she heard they could see Nyima, she’d found a bit of her old self and grown more cheery. Ozma’s landscape and the dangers they’d encountered were putting her mood on a slow descent back to that dark place, but if Vyxen was pinning her hopes on her friend, it made sense.

“She’s my friend,” Vyxen said, chewing on her lip again.

“You’re expecting her to fix you.”

She gasped as she tore a large piece of skin from her lip. “I’m not,” she mumbled. “Hey, Melanthe said they send companions out to fight instead of soldiers. Isn’t that just the worst?!”

Abruptly changing the subject when it hit too close to home was Vyxen’s raison d’être, and it didn’t surprise Date one bit. He noted her reaction to the previous topic and found some of his own anger at Nyima dissolving. There was still a pot of resentment simmering in his belly for abandoning her friends, but seeing her through Vyxen’s eyes he began to feel petty for it. “Did she say this explicitly?” If Gehail needed elementals to strengthen the barrier then sending companions to fight wasn’t the worst plan. It was cruel and heartless, but there were tactics behind it.

“Nooo.” Vyxen shook her head, silvery hair whipping against Date’s cheek and bringing a scent of sweetgrass to his oversized nose. “There was also something about the barrier she wasn’t saying.”

As a member of Gehail’s court, he expected this. Melanthe shouldn’t reveal secrets to outsiders.

“I think we should wait until we reach Ozma before forming opinions. Everything so far is rumour and conjecture.”

Vyxen blew a raspberry. “If I don’t know how gross they are how will I know how gross they are?”

Date chuckled, feeling her relax and acknowledging burgeoning happiness. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

 

~*~*~

 

The rest of the group trotted a sedate pace on myriads some distance below Vyxen and Date.

Jack took lead, with Tundra and Seth—along with Zercey—in the middle, and Imogen and Melanthe taking the rear.

Zercey already revealed what the girls spoke about during the night and now listened as the men gave accounts of things they’d learned during the dark hours.

“Think about it,” Seth concluded, voiced hushed, recounting his conversation with Jack. “He was calling Tundra ‘mister’; afraid to open his trap unless drunk.”

“He isn’t much better now,” Zercey replied, doubtful.

“Because I use ice magic,” Tundra guessed. “He thinks I’m like them.”

“Your attitude isn’t helping,” she pointed out.

“My attitude’s fine,” he replied, tone bland. “If someone’s brought up thinking a certain race is the devil, then it doesn’t matter how nice one of them is, that person will still think they’re the devil.”

“Again, your attitude isn’t helping.” Zercey was immovable.

“Damn,” he chuckled. “Have you been taking stubbornness lessons from Nyima?”

Zercey’s lips twitched. “Okay, I guess I can see how Jack would be frightened of elementals, but Melanthe is harmless. They attacked her. She’s got some bad qualities, but that doesn’t make her dangerous.”

“She killed the dzoavits,” Tundra revealed. “I went to the stables after everyone fell asleep. There was evidence someone suffocated him.”

“How would Melanthe do that?” She didn’t have a weapon.

“She’s an elemental, isn’t she? Wouldn’t she have magic?” Zercey didn’t know what kind of power Ozma’s elementals had, but it stood to reason they should warrant the title that came with their species.

“Gagging someone’s simple,” Tundra surmised. “I’ve not been close enough to check, but does she feel cold to you?”

“Yes.” Zercey nodded for emphasis. “She’s got some kind of resistance, but there’s no frost layer or aura like you and Nyima.”

“They’re basically the half-blood version of elementals,” Seth summed up. “I guess they would need more of them to keep their barrier up.”

“What about this ‘Great Protector’? If they’re using the most powerful spell they have to create the barrier, then why would they need elementals to strengthen it?” There were many questions they didn’t have answers to; it frustrated Zercey to no end. “Jack!” she called up to the lead horse. “Is there a quicker route to Ozma?”

“Not without crossing those enemy patrols that Mr Tundra found out,” he replied, shaking his head.

Seth snorted, “Mister.”

Tundra’s single eye rolled, and he flipped Seth the bird. “Vyxen and Imogen took out a demon with little trouble. Who’s to say we couldn’t handle more?” The idea wasn’t his worst, but it also wasn’t the best.

“I think we should avoid them,” Zercey said and Seth seconded it. She asked Jack, “How are we getting through the barrier when we reach it?” 

“Like I said, there’s a bunch of soldiers holding a tower. They’re waiting.” His tone was sad and hopeless.

“Why didn’t Gehail send them with you?” Tundra found it odd they sent Jack all the way to the port alone when there was a platoon to hand.

“I had a couple, but I lost them.” His shoulders dropped. “They told me to keep to the plan.”

“Whose plan? I thought the Ozma sent for us?” Things were becoming confusing again and Zercey liked it when everything made sense.

“Captain’s orders,” Jack replied. “She’s at the tower, too.”

“What’s her name?” Tundra wasn’t expecting it to be Nyima, not with a title like Captain, but it was worth asking.

“Raashan.”

Seth patted Zercey’s hand that rested on his shoulder when he felt her sag in the saddle. “Maybe the Captain knows Nyima.”

“I’m dreading finding out she never made it,” she replied in a defeated and pessimistic voice.

“Bullshit,” Tundra bit back. “There’s nothing we’ve come across she couldn’t handle.”

Seth chuckled, “Look at him, all defensive of his lady love.”

“Shut up. It’s common sense.” He was fortunate they rode on his left and couldn’t see his face clearly, because the right side had a stupid smirk tugging his mouth up. His feelings for Nyima conflicted him, but he had no doubts of her skills as a warrior.

 

~*~*~

 

The team stopped at undernmete for lunch. The road remained bereft of travellers with both companions relaxed and at ease. The journey was pleasant enough most relaxed their guard.

“Where did you find that?” Melanthe pointed at Temia. “What does it do?”

Tundra’s eye slid to Date, and they both came to the same conclusion. He snapped his fingers and Temia settled beside him. “Why do you want to know?”

The possessive action spoke volumes. Melanthe’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Her Majesty will be curious.”

“Her Majesty can kiss my ass because it’s mine,” Tundra replied, blunt as a hammer.

“Nyima’s,” Zercey corrected.

He shook his head. “She left it with me; it’s mine.” Depending on the reception, he’d demand joint custody as an excuse to talk to her. He chuckled at the stupid idea, though it wouldn’t prevent him doing it.

“What’s it for?” Melanthe was insistent.

Squishy mooed and curled into a ball, expressing how little she thought of the woman’s questions.

“Comic relief, mostly,” Tundra replied, raising chuckles.

Realising she wouldn’t get an answer, Melanthe returned to her cheese and biscuits.

“Jack, tell us about Captain Raashan.” Zercey decided a change of subject was in order to get everyone on the same page.

“I don’t rightly know much,” Jack replied, ducking his head. “One of hers came and told me to find you. They promised to wait, but...”

“How long ago was that?” Vyxen frowned and petted Zeniba, lounging beside her. “You look worried.”

“I am,” Jack said, his expression cycling through several emotions in a frightening display.

Melanthe gasped, covering her mouth with a trembling hand. 

Musing, Jack said, “It were about a quarter moon ago. I said I’d be quick, but they could be dead by now.”

“I saw them.” Melanthe broke the tense silence that fell. “Four days ago.”

Jack heaved a sigh of relief. “I haven’t let them down.”

“Sounds like this Captain inspires a lot of loyalty,” Seth commented, flicking a grape up into the air and catching it in his mouth. “What’s she like?”

“It’s not my place to say.” His evasiveness put everyone on edge.

Melanthe leant forward. “The Generals and Highguard orchestrate from behind the lines. I heard Raashan volunteers to fight.” She sniffed as though she found the whole thing vulgar.

“I thought elementals needed to strengthen the barrier.” The amount of contradictions to this statement said something else kept them inside.

“Yes. That.” Melanthe’s lips twitched, and she picked at the remnants of her lunch. “I don’t know. I haven’t lived there long.”

“Long enough to overhear vital information and get yourself tossed out as punishment,” Tundra guessed.

When Melanthe’s pale skin flushed blue, he knew he’d hit the nail on the head.

“How about you both stop messing around and tell us the truth!” Vyxen was sick of stumbling in the dark. “If someone ends up hurt or dead because you didn’t tell us something important then I’m gonna come back from the grave and haunt you!” A firm possibility on Illthdar. She grabbed her bow and shook it at Jack for emphasis. “You must’ve given Nyima food if you work in the kitchen!” She twisted to level Melanthe with a silvery glare. “And you’re a court person and  _never_ saw Nyima the _whole time_ you were there!? _Kaa!_ You’re lying! Why?!”

“Captain’s orders,” Jack mumbled. “Please, miss, I can’t.”

Date and Tundra swapped calculating glances. There was one reason someone lied like this: it was dangerous to tell the truth. Since they were passing through enemy territory, it made sense to learn as little as possible. Anything Jack said could give the dzoavits an advantage.

“Okay.” Vyxen backed down at the sincere tone. Jack tried being helpful, despite not answering their questions. She turned on Melanthe. “What’s your excuse? Don’t even tell me you never saw a woman with blue skin and braids. She’s tall and pretty and doesn’t wear shoes and kicks all the ass!” She crossed her arms, scowling, mouth a thin line.

Considering Melanthe was five feet and ten inches, Vyxen’s description would have more success if she’d said Nyima was short. Until they arrived and discovered the average height for elementals was five-foot-seven-inches for women and six-foot for men they wouldn’t realise the mistake. 

“Truthfully,” Melanthe began, placing a slender hand over her heart, “I have never seen her.” When Vyxen opened her mouth to argue, she added, “Many soldiers do not remove their armour, perhaps your friend is one.”

“Nyima in armour?” Zercey mused, shaking her head. “No way. She’d overheat.”

“Metal armour with ice magic?” Tundra questioned with subtle sarcasm. “There’s a great combination.”

Melanthe shrugged. “I don’t know what it’s made from, but our soldiers don’t remove their helmets or armour.”

“What about other places? Training grounds? The dining hall?” Zercey would pursue answers until they had them. “Nyima isn’t a typical soldier, she’s an Aetumuh.”

 Melanthe laughed. “Those are faery tales.”

“Someone’s in for a surprise,” Seth muttered to Imogen, who smirked and nodded. He raised his voice to address Melanthe. “Your Queen summoned Nyima to Ozma. You heard nothing about that?”

She shook her head. “No. I swear.”

“What about the patrol increases?” Zercey wanted to lay this question to rest. She suspected the Ozma of punishing Nyima by having people banished.

Melanthe winced. “That’s the Ozma’s method. It stopped for a time, but recently she’s exiled people with flimsy excuses.” The contempt in her voice spoke volumes. “I don’t know what Captain Raashan did to anger Her Majesty, but none of the courtiers expect anyone to return.”

Imogen pointed out, “You said Raashan volunteers.”

Melanthe shrugged. “Volunteer is the polite way of saying it.”

“Given no choice, is the other,” Tundra assumed.

At this, Seth returned to another burning question. “How are we getting in there, Jack?”

“If the Captain’s alive, she’ll tell you,” he replied. “Maybe we should set off? We’ve caught up some time with not bringing that dzoavits along, but it’s still a ways to Ozma.”

“You like Raashan. Is she an elemental?” Vyxen was curious, having noticed Jack’s behaviour to Tundra and Melanthe. After Zercey caught her up regarding Melanthe’s possible murder of the dzoavits, she was more curious about ice elementals. In Melanthe’s shoes she couldn’t say she wouldn’t have done the same, though the idea disgusted her.  _I guess it’s like Toshi says: “I’m a work in progress”._

“She is,” Jack confirmed. His eyes slid to where Imogen helped Melanthe to mount. “We gotta find the good within the bad.” He patted her shoulder and went to his myriad.

Vyxen chewed on her lip, frowning when she felt a dart of pain. She searched her pockets for a cloth and blinked with surprise when someone pressed one into her hands. “Oh. Thanks, Seth.”

“You know Tosh never has one,” he joked back. “Keep it,” he said, when she offered it to him. “Or give it to Date, so he can give it to you next time you make your mouth bleed.”

Vyxen snickered. “Do you think what Melanthe said about soldiers in armour is real?”

“I don’t see why she’d lie.” He glanced at Jack and tilted his head. “He knows something.”

“He didn’t want to betray that Captain.” Vyxen gasped as an idea grabbed hold. “Could the Captain be Nyima? Is she using a different name?”

“I don’t see why.” Seth shook his head. “Why’d she need an alias?”

Vyxen disagreed. “When we first met she used a different name. If they told her to use another she’d do it.”

“That was the language barrier,” Tundra called, having mounted his myriad. “Everyone thought her name was Teysuht because it was all she could say.” As Nyima’s language skills improved she cleared up the miscommunication, though he recalled her embarrassed blushing with fondness. 

Vyxen wouldn’t hear otherwise. This was the reason they couldn’t find Nyima. Whatever the reason for the name change, everyone would see Nyima _was_ Raashan.

 

~*~*~

 

“That barrier looks like a big, blue blob,” Vyxen giggled. She rode with Seth, replacing Zercey, so she didn’t miss any gossip, and to ruminate on her and Date’s heart to heart.

Jack chuckled. “It does at that. Wait till you get closer.”

“How big is it, anyway?” Tundra wondered since Imogen mentioned seeing it from the crow’s nest on Ghonru’s ship.

“Covers the whole city,” Jack replied in an obvious tone. “Goes a ways from the highest palace tower and stops twenty feet from the city gates. Course, the border stretched further before, but the barrier didn’t reach and the invaders tore most of the surrounding wall.”

“Where are they camping?” Seth knew Date would want to know.

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. I – ”

“If you say you just work in the kitchen one more time, I’m going to kick you off that horse,” Tundra interrupted, annoyed.

“Rightly, I’m sorry,” Jack replied, leaning away from him. “I weren’t picked because I’m a knowledgeable person.”

“We know, Jack. It’s okay,” Vyxen soothed, then pinched Tundra’s bicep. “Cut it out.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.“ Tundra let out an exasperated puff of air and settled in his saddle. Everyone wanted answers and every time they got close they came up against another wall. Gehail’s barrier had nothing on the one surrounding information about Nyima. _Is it so much to ask for news about her?_ The others could tease all they liked, she was still his girlfriend; concern was natural. After their separation when he went to Oto he’d kept his mind occupied with thoughts of everyone, including Nyima. It was one thing that kept him going mad. Time passed different to Illthdar, and he was away for a year, so when he returned he realised all the denials and excuses he’d made about not caring for anyone were pointless. He cared. He’d been looking forward to getting to know Nyima better and found himself bothered when denied the chance.

He absently petted Temia, flopped across his lap asleep. He could count on one hand the amount of times it gave him attention since its true owner left, and most occurred after they arrived. Given the way people reacted to the companion, he had a feeling she stuck close for protection. _I’m doing better with you than Smoke._ He left his companion to its own devices. The stegosaurus-looking pup played guard dog to Ona in Las, likely chewing his way through Kinsa’s book collection. 

“Muscles!”

“What?” Tundra answered without thinking and sighed when the others laughed.

“Jack and Melanthe were asking about Nyima.” Imogen repeated conversation, figuring Tundra’s silence hadn’t been because Vyxen told him off.

“Shouldn’t we be asking them about her?” he countered, wry.

“We tried and got nowhere, so we’re trying to match information and see if someone fits the description,” Seth said. “You might wanna pay attention so you don’t repeat something we’ve said when it’s your turn. Or say something you wanted to keep in your head,” he added, knowing very well what Tundra thought about concerning his girlfriend because he thought similar things about his own.

“Got it,” Tundra replied with a mental slap and sitting upright. “Who’s going first?”

“Me!” Vyxen stuck her hand in the air.

“Try to say more than she’s pretty,” Seth teased.

Vyxen pinched his cheek. “She _is_ pretty! She’s this pretty blue color, and she’s got pretty blue hair that’s all braided and she’s got pretty blue eyes and even her lips and nails are blue!” Vyxen nodded, certain she’d just given the best description of her friend ever given, ever.

“So, she’s pretty,” Melanthe replied, mindful of offending Vyxen.

“And blue,” Imogen added, laughing. “Barefoot and wears long scarves wrapped around her.”

“No one in Ozma could dress like that,” Melanthe gasped. “It’s scandalous!”

“It gets a mixed reaction in Las,” Tundra replied, smirking.

“Not that he’s complaining,” Seth supplied with a chuckle.

Melanthe frowned and blinked several times.

“They’re a couple,” Imogen said, as though it should have been obvious.

“Oh.” There was a wealth of information hidden in that one word, and Tundra’s eyebrow rose.

“She’s an Acolyte,” he reminded. “A fighter; should be with soldiers. She’ll be the only one not bowing to your Queen.” He couldn’t picture such a thing. He wanted to say more: she was brave and passionate and fun, but he wasn’t in the mood for catcalls.

“Oh.” Melanthe frowned more heavily. “I really don’t think there’s anyone like that in Ozma.”

“Jack?” Vyxen called up to him, noting he’d gone quiet once again.

“I—erm. I don’t rightly know,” he said at last, shifting with discomfort. “You should wait to ask the Captain. She’d know every soldier.”

Vyxen bobbed up and down behind Seth. “He knows her,” she hissed, certain their description jogged Jack’s memory.

“There must be a reason he doesn’t want to talk,” Seth replied, eyeing Jack with a scowl.  

 “She’s the Captain!” Vyxen hissed louder and Jack turned in the saddle.

“I’m sorry, miss, but she’s not your friend.”

“I don’t believe you!” Vyxen sang, shaking her head. “Nyima’s in Ozma and picked the weirdest new name!”

Whether right or wrong, they wouldn’t know because an arrow landed on the ground in front of Jack’s myriad —  a signal from Date to halt.

“How far are we from Ozma?” Seth questioned. The blue blob on the horizon grew while they talked, but seemed far enough they wouldn’t arrive before dark.

“Another hundred-ish miles,” Jack said, waggling a hand in a make-shift scale. “It would’ve taken two days at a quick pace, but the cart slowed us.”

“Well, whatever’s stopping us now will, too,” Imogen pointed out. “Let’s hope it isn’t another overturned cart.”

 

~*~*~

 

“We should send the signal. They’re not coming.” The helmet covering the woman’s face muffled her voice and identity.

“Syl, shut the fuck up.”

“Less attitude, kid.”

“Sylmy, would it kill you to think positively and have faith?”

“Yeah, but what if she’s right?”

“Silence!” The stern command met immediate obedience. “We’re not sending the signal until Jack, Harafee and Myle arrive with the Acolytes. Until then we hold this location.”

“Yes, Captain,” came the chorusing replies.

“What if they’re dead?” Sylmy’s caution the past days saved their lives. She wasn’t unreasonable, even if her opinion wasn’t what anyone wanted to hear.

Captain Raashan’s armour clinked as she marched to Sylmy and put both hands on her shoulders. “We won’t think that way,” she said, her voice oozing patience borne from years of training. “We have a plan and must trust it will succeed.”

“Yes, Captain,” Sylmy replied, nodding. “I’m trying,” she added, trying to muster up some confidence.

“That’s all I expect,” Raashan said with wry humour, turning to her remaining troops. “Have we replenished our ammunition?”

The man who’d sworn at Mac answered, “Ready to shoot the fuckers on your orders.”

Raashan’s chuckle echoed inside her helmet. “Very good, Vamear.” She directed her next question up to the crumbling battlement where two more soldiers perched. “Teelia, Aukoo, have we eyes on the enemy?”

“Nothing from the south-west, Captain,” Teelia replied, looking through a set of spyglasses. Her blue-black hair, tied in a series of braids reaching the small of her back whipped about in the wind, striking her comrade’s arm guard in an off-key note.

“Movement to the south-east, Captain,” Aukoo called, lowering her glasses. “Two rabids and five handlers.” She put the glasses in a small box and hid it in a hollow part of the wall where bricks fell in, waiting until Teelia placed hers beside them before sealing it up with ice. The two women nodded, put on their helmets and formed bows from ice.

“Shit,” muttered the pale man beside Raashan. “Maybe we should pull back, Captain, closer to the barrier.”

“And make the Acolytes run a nightmare gauntlet alone?” Raashan shook her head. “Take your position, Eren, we can handle this.”

Squaring his shoulders, Eren saluted. “Yes, Captain.” He clambered the half-collapsed staircase and handed out quivers to the two women up top. The bags were hollow cylinders made of ice and filled to the brim with ice arrows, with a fabric strap to fasten them about the waist. “See you two on the other side.” He pinged their helmets with a finger. “Don’t make me stay in this shithole alone.”

“Would we do that to you?” Teelia replied, her helmet distorting her voice, but not the humour in it. “Besides, Belias would kill us if we don’t come back and that’s something nobody wants.”

Eren snorted, picturing his lover’s furious expression when he heard the plan. “Just...don’t die.”

“Have faith,” Aukoo said, ever-cheerful. “We have to believe and stay positive.”

The other two snorted in unison, swapping wry glances.

“Mock all you want,” she said, waving a finger under Eren’s nose, “but don’t forget _I’m_ the one who saved _both_ your worthless butts last time.”

“Then we owe you.” Teelia looked where enemy forces gathered. Though few, they were relentless. “If anyone’s going home, it’s you.”

Aukoo disagreed. “It’s _all_ of us. We must have faith like Lady Oena Ven tells us.”

“You hold ours,” Eren said, hurrying off to finish handing out ammunition to the remaining platoon. They began with thirteen—excluding the Captain—and if Jack returned with both escorts they’d have a grand total of eight. He hoped the idiot remembered to buy enough mounts, otherwise the crossing would be twice as hellish. “This better be worth it,” he muttered, echoing everyone’s sentiment.

 

 


End file.
